For the Cause
by Iamawriter1
Summary: Faith is a 17 year old girl fighting for her life in The Great War of 2056. She is living in New Middle-earth. She has lost hope, until she is sent back to old Middle-earth to change things. ON PERMENANT HIATUS
1. Bodies and Bullet shells

_For the cause  
**  
Prologue**_

The world in which this tale is set is Middle-earth. However, it is modern day Middle-earth, which means, everything is exactly the same as it is in our world. You see, in this story, Middle-earth is a parallel universe so basically everything is the same, from weapons to names of cities.  
  
The only difference is, all the old stories of old Middle-earth (e.g. The Fellowship of the Ring) are well known in modern day Middle-earth, though they are dismissed as legends.  
  
Got that? If you don't understand, then just read the story, it doesn't really matter...  
  
Now let me transport you into the world of New Middle-Earth.....

_Chapter One  
_  
I closed my eyes and tried to make it all disappear. All the noise of guns and the screams of my friends...I wanted it all to stop. To just stop and shut up. Worse than the screaming was the death song. That's what we used to call it, the death song. It was a kind of half cry and half scream that almost everyone made before dying. I hoped that when I died, I wouldn't sing the death song.  
  
But I knew that I probably would, everyone died like that in this war.  
  
We're the last hope now, and the last hope is getting slaughtered. The fate of freedom is resting on our shoulders, and it's too heavy. We all knew we are going to lose, I mean who were we kidding? 400,00 boys and girls aged 13-17 who have only had basic training vs. 630,000 marines who were each trained to be killing machines. We had guns, they had tanks. We had ships, they had fighter jets. It was so one-sided that it was getting ridiculous. I didn't understand why we hadn't given up already. Almost the entire adult population of the 'Free countries alliance' had been slaughtered in 2056. Now it was 2058 and we were literally the only ones left to fight. It was fight or die.  
  
It was futile either way. We all knew an early grave was inevitable. I was 15 when The Great War started. It's strange...it was only two years ago but I can't really remember what it was like. I can't remember going to the mall or watching television clearly. What bliss...to be so naive. The only thing I used to have to worry about was bringing home a report-card or how I was going to sneak out the house when I was grounded...now I had to worry about keeping myself alive.  
  
None of us really thought about war. Wars were things that happened in the south, not here on the North...how wrong we were.  
  
I flinched and shut my eyes tighter when I felt a bullet whiz over the top of my head. I tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my right leg. Some bastard had shot me in just below my kneecap. I pushed the knowledge that I couldn't run out of my mind and tried to concentrate on my memories.  
  
I thought back to the day that this all started. February 10th 2056. The day after my birthday. I had switched on the T.V and was immediately assaulted by image after image of Paris, London, New-York...all the major cities were in flames. Notre-Dam had been burnt down, Big-Ben had been blown up, The Empire State building had collapsed....there were more and more reports coming in by the second. All over the world there were landmarks being destroyed. I shouted for my Mum and Dad and we watched in horror as people were jumping out of windows to escape flames and countless families were screaming and crying.  
  
My Mum and Dad kept swearing and shaking their heads in amazement.  
  
"Don't you forget this Faith," My Mum kept saying.  
  
The news-readers were in a panic, trying to remain calm and failing utterly. I gulped, thanking god that we were out of the way of this mayhem...not thinking about the consequences of what I was watching. The phone was ringing all day. So many relatives and friends calling to check Dad wasn't on a business trip to London like he so often was.  
  
Within two days the culprits had revealed themselves. They called themselves 'The Followers of Isengard'. They believed that everything natural should be destroyed, including anyone who would not join them. Bunch of loonies. Who knew the loonies were smart sons of bitches. The Free Countries Alliance was formed soon after, an alliance between everyone who didn't agree with 'The Followers of Isengard'.  
  
They organized an army and sent them marching off to war, oblivious of how 'The Followers of Isengard' had countless spies in their ranks and so they knew every order that was sent out. Soon, the Free Countries had called on everyone between the ages of 20-40. Women included. All the children were sent to assigned camps because most of our parents were 'fighting the good fight'. I'll never forget the day I got sent to my camp. I was still numb from the shock, most of us were. I made a few friends there and we listened to the radio news everyday with baited breath. Waiting to hear news of our Mums, Dads, brothers and sisters.  
  
The Free Countries had really underestimated their enemy and within one year the entire army had been defeated. That was when a new order went out. I remember listening to the order with Caleb and Ethan as clear as if it were yesterday.  
  
"A new decree has gone out. All men and women over 40 please report to your nearest recruit office." The voice paused and shook as it read the next part. "All care-takers gather all children between the ages of 13-19 and report to your nearest recruit office. Please do so calmly. I'm so sorry...God save us all..." The voice croaked the last part and static followed. Our care-takers all cried as they herded us into the vans. Many of us tried to escape but none succeeded. 'Deserters would be shot' was the rule. Many were shot that week.  
  
Ethan had been the first to go. He had bled to death in The Battle of Rome. Caleb and I carried him to the infirmary but it was too late. Caleb had been shot in the head two months later. He had been protecting me at the time, the shielded me with his body...he saved my life.  
  
Now I was alone.  
  
My eyes flew open when I felt someone topple on top of me. I pushed the person off and saw that she was still breathing. I recognized her from our briefing. It was her first time on the field. 13 years old, though she looked about 10. Very small and mousy. I shook her hard and cursed the pain in my leg.  
  
"Hey! Hey! Wake up!" I shouted over the noise, willing her to open her eyes. It would probably be better for her if she was dead, but I'd be damned before I'd let that happen. "Kid!! Wake up!!' I shouted in her ear. Her eyelids fluttered open and gave a sigh of relief. She sat up woozily and looked about her. I watched and saw the familiar look of panic settle on her face.  
  
Out of everything I'd learnt, I'd learnt that panicking would get you killed. I pulled her arm and forced her to look at me. I saw tears and confusion in her big brown eyes and if the situation was remotely funny, I would have laughed. She looked exactly like a lost puppy. "Listen to me kid," I said in her ear, "If you do exactly as I say then you might have a chance. If you don't, you will die. Do you want to die?" I asked, pulling back to see her face. The tears were pouring down her face now but she shook her head. I nodded and assumed my best Drill-Sergeant impression. Being sensitive and understanding would get you nowhere, you had to be tough and in control if you wanted to live.  
  
"My name is..."  
  
"I don't want to know!" I shouted. If you knew someone's name, it made it personal. You couldn't get personal, it made it easier when they died. "NOW SIT UP SOLDIER!" I barked. She did so, "STOP THOSE TEARS THIS INSTANT OR I'LL SAVE THEM THE TROUBLE AND KILL YOU MYSELF." I said, gesturing to the other side of the field. The tears stopped and the girl seemed to toughen up a bit. "YOU WANT TO LIVE?" I asked.  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"I SAID, DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?"  
  
"YES SIR!" She shouted. I almost smiled. I nodded and noticed she didn't have a gun. I handed her mine, she looked horrified. "I can't ... you need ..."  
  
"I don't need it. Now run and don't look back. Shoot as many of the bastards as you can on the way, don't hesitate or you will die. DO YOU UNDERSTAND SOLDIER?" I shouted, fighting tears of my own. She shook her head.  
  
"You're hurt, you'll die..."  
  
"GO NOW!! THAT IS A DIRECT ORDER!!" I screamed. I knew that if she didn't leave now I wouldn't be able to handle this. She shook her head again and a determined look settled on her face. She slung the machine gun over her shoulder and looped her arm under mine, tugging me up. I winced at the pain. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!??" I shouted. She turned to me and I knew from the determined look on her face that she wasn't going to back down.  
  
"Help me carry you or we'll both get shot!!" She shouted over the sounds of a helicopter. My eyes widened and I staggered with her. Helicopters were bad news, very bad news. The Free countries had none left, so we knew that only the enemy used them. They flew over head and shot us in droves, sharp shooting the leaders and creating confusion. I cried out in pain but we kept running. We ducked into what used to be a train-station to get out of the way of the helicopters and to catch our breath. I ripped off the sleeve of my T-shirt and tied it tightly above the small hold in my leg. It wasn't too bad, not much bleeding. I was lucky it didn't hit my knee-cap, and then I would've been in real trouble. After I had finished I looked up at the small girl who had just saved me from certain death and said,  
  
"What the hell?" I said. She looked to the ceiling.  
  
"Can't you be the least bit...?"  
  
"GRATEFULL? Are you kidding me? You want me to be grateful that you not only disobeyed a direct order but you also put your own life in danger?!? I can't have your blood on my hands!! By Valour kid!" I shouted, my temper getting the better of me. She flinched but her look of steely determination remained.  
  
"You were going to sacrifice your life for mine! Isn't that putting your own life in danger?!" She said indignantly. I laughed. I really laughed, for the first time in over six months, I actually laughed. This kid had balls...metaphorically speaking.  
  
I turned to her, still chuckling but I stopped abruptly and pulled her down behind a pile of rubble. "What?" She whispered. I shoved my hand over her mouth roughly and put my finger on my lips. 'The enemy'. I mouthed, nodding towards the doorway behind her. Her eyes turned the size of saucers and I noticed her breathing quickened.  
  
I motioned for the gun on her back and she eased if over her head and handed it to me. I licked my dry and cracked lips while I aimed. There were only two of them, probably scouts. I fired and hit the larger one in the head. The other cried out and raised his gun wildly trying to find out where the bullet came from. I shot him in the knees and watched with pleasure as he screamed and dropped the gun. I shuffled out from out from behind our hiding place, ignoring the look of horror on the other girls face.  
  
"Eil sidoor nablee famount!!" I screamed. It was 'The Followers of Isengard's language. They followed the teachings of some ancient stupid book written by a moron who thought he was a wizard or something. It really pissed them off when anyone else dared to speak it. Several thousand of us, the older ones, had been taught the language back at training. Eil sidoor nablee famount, roughly translated meant 'I hope you are in pain you have failed your mission. You can never live up to your master.' It was always satisfying to say this. You see, they believe if you die at the hands of a non-believer you will spend eternity in torment. So, I loved reminding them before they died. It was a way of repaying them for all the pain and suffering they had caused me.  
  
I ignored the look of disgust on the girls face and sat back against the wall.  
  
"What's you name?" The girl asked finally. I hesitated but realized I was probably going to die within the next few hours anyway.  
  
"Faith." I snorted at the irony. "Yours?" I said, not looking at her.  
  
"Grace." She said quietly. I nodded and took a breath.  
  
"I can't hear the helicopter anymore, you?" She shook her head." Right then, let's get gone." I said, gritting my teeth as I stood on my painful leg. Grace immediately steadied me and within minutes we were back in the open. I tried to block out the sounds of screaming and machine guns, but I saw so many people I knew. Tommy Draco, Mini Harris, Livi Washington...the list of faces were endless. Some dead and lifeless, some shooting over their shoulders as they ran.  
  
I saw an older boy motioning to us and I tugged at Grace. She got the picture and we changed direction to follow him. As we got closer I noticed that there were about eight others behind him and they were all only about 13. Before I could think about it any harder, an earth-shattering boom sounded to my right and I flung my weight the opposite direction, pulling Grace to the floor with me. After that was about two minutes of silence as the dust cleared. "COMPANY, RETREAT!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Before I knew it, Grace and I had been pulled to our feet and we were running.  
  
I ignored the pain below my knee and concentrated on running. I glanced to my left and saw that it was the same boy that had been motioning to us. He looked about 16, which was damn old for these days. Grace was running in front of us, occasionally glancing back. "DONT LOOK BACK!" I shouted over the din. She nodded and turned to face the woods ahead. Woods meant protection. Protection was good.  
  
I knew that 'The Followers of Isengard' wouldn't follow us, they may have won the battle, but there were a hell of a lot of casualties on their side as well as ours. They weren't stupid...crazy but not stupid. As we got nearer to the woods I took a deep breath. "PEOPLE, GET IN THE TREES!!!" I shouted over my shoulders. I wasn't the captain of this troop for nothing; I could be damn loud when I wanted to. I nearly collapsed of exhaustion when we got into the safety of the redwoods. I slumped onto a tree and I felt strong hands easing me to the forest floor. I closed my eyes and just breathed for a minute or so before looking to my rescuer. He looked a lot like Caleb. Black shoulder-length hair in a ponytail, dark brown eyes and tanned skin. He was looking at me intently, worry and respect in his eyes. I attempted a weak smile. "Thanks." I said, my voice scratchy because of the pain in my knee.  
  
"You're hurt." He said suddenly. I nodded and motioned to my knee. His eyes widened and he called for someone. The someone was another boy, much younger. He was obviously one of the kids who had taken extensive first aid. He untied the material above my wound and I looked away, gritting my teeth.  
  
"Wow. You ran with this bugger? OK I'm going to take out the bullet on five ... one, two ..." Then he pulled out the little piece of metal. Sneaky little git. I would've laughed if the pain hadn't been so intense. I felt a warm hand in mine and I squeezed it, thankful for a release of the pain. The next few minutes were a blur. When the boy finally moved away I took a deep breath.  
  
"Where's Grace? The girl who was helping me." I croaked. The guy smiled.  
  
"Don't worry, she's over there. I think she's sleeping." He pointed to another tree and I nodded before leaning back against the tree. I cursed my gift of a loud voice but I shouted commands anyway.  
  
"SOLDIERS!" I shouted, waiting for them to turn and pay attention before continuing, "WELL DONE. GET SOME REST, WE'LL MOVE OUT AT 0600." I shouted, my voice shaking slightly with effort. The guy next to me flinched.  
  
"Damn women are loud." He said, giving a weak smile.  
  
"Yeah well men are so stupid they have to be shouted at." I gave him a playful punch. It's strange, when you're in a war, you can become friends with anyone on your side in 5 minutes. I suppose it's because you all know what it's like...to lose people and two seconds later you have fight for your life. 'No' I thought to myself. I wouldn't allow myself to think about all my people. My men and women who died today. I knew that if I did, I would go into the dead zone. That's just what we call it...dead zone. It's when a soldier turns in on themselves ... they go into a catatonic state ... trapped in a nightmare. The war never ends for them. I've seen hundreds like that. It's not a pretty sight.  
  
"You got a name?" I cocked my head to one side considering whether or not I should tell him. He saved my life...hell he deserves to know my name.  
  
"Faith. 17. And you are.."  
  
"Leith. 18. We seem to be the oldies of the bunch." He said, sticking out a hand. I shook it and noticed both our hands were still shaking from battle. My ears pricked at the sound of quiet singing. It was a memorial. After every battle, the survivors would sing a song to commemorate them...it was not necessary but we felt it was appropriate considering they would never get a proper funeral. Will and I began to join in, both knowing the words off by heart. It was an old song...made in 2002 or something. It was just so appropriate.  
  
Mary's got the same size hands  
As Marilyn Monroe  
She put her fingers in the imprints  
At Mann's Chinese Theater Show  
She coulda been a movie star  
Never got the chance to go that far  
Her life was stole

Now we'll never know  
  
Greg was always getting net from 20 feet away  
He had a try out with the Sixers  
Couldn't wait for Saturday  
Now we're never gonna see him slam  
Flying high as Kobe can  
His life was stole Stole  
Oh now we'll never know  
  
Yeah their lives were stole."   
  
As the song ended I watched the people around us. Most were only about 13, all were crying and scared. They weren't supposed to be here. None of us were. We were children for Gods sake. Children arn't cut out for fighting like this. Something inside me hardened when I saw Grace comforting a slight girl. This is wrong. That was when I decided that I was sick of this, I decided I was going to get these kids out...one way or another.  
  
"Help me up." I said quietly. Leith glanced at me, looking surprised. "Help me up..." I said more urgently. He did so and I shakily got to my feet. "Now prepare your ears..." I said. He looked confused but then realized my intention and promptly stepped away. "ALL SOLDIERS COME HERE." I bellowed. Within ten minutes I had about 600 kids gathered around me. Many were injured, some badly.  
  
"ATTENTION." Leith shouted. I gave him a thankful smile and turned to the now silent group. I had no need to shout now, but I still made sure my voice was loud enough to be heard in the back.  
  
"Has anyone here heard of the Kluck's sacred city?" I asked. 'Klucks' was the nickname we had given the Peoples movement. Don't ask why … it just is.  
  
I saw several of them nod, though most of them just looked confused. "It's a little known fact, " I continued, "that there is a city that the Klucks haven't touched for one reason and one reason alone. They believe that it is a land of devils or some crap like that, so they stay clear of it. Actually they stay clear of it within a 20 mile radius. Now, I am about to suggest something that I could easily be court-marshalled for so if you don't like that then leave now." Nobody moved. "Good. I am suggesting that we go to the city and live there until this war is over and done with." I was immediately met by cheers and whistles of approval.  
  
"Uhh...where is this land of milk and honey?" Leith asked, looking sceptical. I gave a grim smile. I knew where the city was alright. That was what I learnt from listening outside General Bates's office. I also learnt that travelling there was probably the most dangerous mission that we could go on. But I was willing to risk anything to escape this world of guns and death.  
  
"Newcastle, England." I said quietly. Groans erupted but they were quiet when I snapped my eyes up. I pictured what I looked like. A tall, lean fighting machine. I almost laughed, I probably did look scary. Full army outfit, machine gun over back, short spiked up black hair, electric blue eyes and a scowl on my face.  
  
"England?" Grace asked, her voice a little faint. I nodded.  
  
"We are only in Ireland people, liven up. It's not that far." I said sounding exactly like my mother. I had a crisp Oxford, England accent that made me sound far more intelligent than I was. I had my Mum and Dad to thank for that.  
  
"Not that far?!?" Someone said, sarcastically. I stood up as straight as I could.  
  
"What do you want? Do you want to stay here and get shot or worse, captured? Or do you want to come with me and have a hope of getting out of this alive and healthy?" I said calmly. "It's your choice. Go back and face that," I pointed to the battle field that was silent and still. Full of bodies and bullet shells. That was life had come down to...bodies and bullet shells. Death and destruction. The things I had seen, that we had seen, were enough to make break the strongest mind.  
  
But we were sane, and I was intending on keeping it that way.  
  
_ONE MONTH LATER  
_  
"LEITH! HELP!!" I screamed, clutching Grace's pail limp form in my arms. I tried desperately to wake her up, to make her respond to me. I ignored the screams and the sounds of gunfire around me, it wasn't important. As I looked at her lifeless face I realized something...something terrible.  
  
I had failed my mission.  
  
We had come so far, lost so many. And now we were at Newcastle, we discovered that The People's movement had flattened our entire army, and now they were after us. Apparently, I was slightly wrong about Newcastle. They weren't scared of it because they thought it had demons...they worshiped the place because they thought it had demons. So now my kids were fighting a hopeless battle.  
  
2000 strong against 300 tired kids. We had a slight advantage in that we were in an old fortress. Though, an old fortress and a few machine guns vs. tanks and crazy lunatics who thought we were trampling on their sacred ground, isn't much of a competition.  
  
I felt Leith's warm hand on my shoulder and he shook his head slightly. I nodded and lay Grace on the ground gently. I wiped my eyes and turned to face my soldiers. "MEN!" I shouted over the din. "RETREAT!!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I saw the relief on their faces as they ran down the spiral staircases, calling out the order. I realized then, that they weren't going to abandon me, even if I had ordered that we stayed. I smiled weakly and reached for Leith's hand. But it wasn't there.  
  
I spun around to see Leith lying on the stone ground, in a puddle of crimson. "NO!!" I shouted, leaping to his side. I picked him up and saw that he was breathing weakly; there was a bullet hole in his stomach. "Shit Leith. C'mon, let's go." I said, trying to haul him to his feet. Leith shook his head and brought a bloody hand to my face, I was vaguely aware of tears on my cheeks.  
  
"Go..." He whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. I grasped his hand in mine and shook my head, my tears falling onto his chest. "I love you ... please … go." He whispered. I gave a weak smile,  
  
"You jump, I jump remember." I joked, we were both fans of the old film, Titanic. Leith nodded, coughing up blood.  
  
"You are going to die old and warm in your bed. Not here, not this night." He whispered, quoting Leonardo Dicaprio. Then he did something that still haunts me in my sleep.  
  
He pushed me away with all his might and I watched as a large piece of rock collapsed on top of him from a tower above us.  
  
"LEITH!!!" I screamed. I turned my face away form the mess that was his body. I couldn't let myself see it, I couldn't allow myself slip into the dead zone. I staggered towards the nearest door way and felt strong hands pull me inside. I looked around at the survivors of the attack. Fifty of us at the most. The majority of them were badly wounded. We were going to die.  
  
"We don't blame you." Rodger said from the corner, tending to thin girl in the corner. We all tried to ignore the sounds of the Klucks ramming the door down.  
  
"I blame me. Well done people. We fought like heroes and we'll die like heros. I was honoured to fight with you." I said weakly, saluting. It broke my heart to see them salute proudly back, knowing I'd failed them. We all held hands, closing our eyes and waiting for death to come. There was no way out, no escape. Resistance was futile.  
  
As I listed to the sounds of the huge metal and wooden doors being slammed, an idea hit me. "THE EAST WINDOW!" I yelled, making everyone jump. Of course, back then I had no idea of the future significance of that window. But now I've told you, haven't I? Remember the east window, it'll be vital later. Delos's intelligent, grey eyes widen with excitement and he grinned widely.  
  
"YES! THE EAST WINDOW!! LET'S GO!" He shouted excitedly. I heard yelps of agreement and we helped the wounded up before half-sprinting towards the large open widow leading to some sort of sacred park the Klucks had created. I helped the other climb through before jumping out onto the hard gravel myself. We dragged each other forwards, only alive because of a small flame of hope left burning in our chests. As we got into the safety of the trees I glanced back behind us and quickened the pace.  
  
About 20 Klucks had caught on and were pursuing on foot. We kept running, I tried to ignore the sound of bullets whizzing past me as we zigzagged our way into the thick woods. I ran and ran, calling out orders and where to go, not noticing the alarming amount of us who were dropping to the ground like flies. When I finally looked back, nobody was there. I stopped abruptly and called out for someone, anyone. No reply came. I sunk to my knees in utter defeat. I don't know how long I stayed like that, the world span about me like a dream.  
  
If I had been watching carefully I would have seen something that was to amazing to imagine.  
  
The world was going backwards.  
  
The trees were getting younger, the sun rising and setting, the landscape changing, the buildings disappearing. All of this was going on around me and I didn't notice, I was too wrapped up in guilt and the over overwhelming sense of defeat. When I finally came to, I stood up shakily and looked about me, confused at where I was. I was in a huge open expanse of grass and rocks, not a building in sight. I blinked and shrugged, deciding it didn't matter anyway. I didn't matter, I had failed my mission and my people.  
  
I picked up my empty machine gun and began loading it, numbly aware that I was utterly and completely alone. As I cleaned and loaded the weapon, I became aware of a terrible pain in my shoulder. I frowned and ripped off my sleeve to find a deep cut and a shard of sharp rock embedded in my flesh. I winced but thought I deserved the pain after what my men went through. I bit my lip and yelped when I tried to pull the piece out, so I decided to leave it where it was until I could get some anti-septic.  
  
I stood up, swaying on my feet and scoped the land about me. I could just make out a dot on the horizon which seemed to be some sort of settlement. I made up my mind to go to it. I had a wild hope that it could be some of my platoon, maybe they had escaped...  
  
I ran as fast as I could at the prospect.  
  
I wondered absently if it could be some Kluck holy building, and pictured it burning ... it would go up in a big whoosh. I stood still, imagining the screams of the bastards. Lot's of wood and straw … I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose, aware that if I was going mad. I sighed deeply and sat down on the nearest rock.  
  
The pain in my shoulder was steadily getting worse but I chose to ignore it. I wondered whether or not I should carry on my journey towards the thing. It might just be a small mountain...that would be a fitting punishment for me. To die of thirst or starvation before I ever got there.  
  
I heard the sounds of hoofs pounding on the foreign soil and I looked behind me to see a group of men, adult men, mounted on beautiful great horses. They were wearing armour and were carrying long spears. I blinked and stared, amazed. Why on earth did they look like that? I saw one was carrying a flag bearing the symbol of a white horse and racked my brains for an Awall troop of our army, but no, I didn't recognize it from anywhere.  
  
I watched in amazement as the riders turned and surrounded a group of three men, spears raised. I couldn't see them, or hear what they were saying, but the guys seemed angry. I swallowed, remembering the fact that I hadn't eaten or drank anything in days. Maybe they had some food and water.  
  
I stumbled to my feet and raised my gun, jogging up to them.  
  
"Take these horses; pray you will be luckier than their riders..." One man was saying, offering two horses to the men. This was getting weirder and weirder. I decided to take matters into my own hands before this got ugly.  
  
"HEY!" I shouted my voice hoarse and sore from shouting and crying. The men turned quickly. I observed the three men who I could not see beforehand. One was indeed, a really short man, he had a beard. Then there was the blond and another man with dark messy hair to his shoulders. All were wearing medieval styled clothing.  
  
"Who are you? What business do you have with us boy?" The one who had been talking earlier asked, brandishing a sword. I blinked again; too bewildered at the swords to be insulted at the implication that I was a boy.  
  
"I...I was wondering if you had any food or water to spare..." I stuttered. The men looked at one another and the man who spoke waved a dismissive hand at me.  
  
"On you're way lad. You are not welcome on these lands." I narrowed my eyes at him, white hot anger searing through me. I liked being angry, it replaced the pain of defeat quickly.  
  
"Who are you to tell me where I am not welcome! I don't even know where I am anymore!" I yelled fiercely. That gained raised eyebrows from all the men except the blond and the man who I was screaming at. He looked utterly furious.  
  
"How dare you speak with such insolence boy!!?" He boomed.  
  
"Enough!" The dark haired man stated firmly, "Who are you?" He asked. I hesitated answering and my mind cast back to when Grace asked me that very same question,  
  
"My name is Faith...I was a commander of my troop but we were fighting and...I am the last one left..." I said finally. The man's eyes grew softer and I noticed the short man and the blond also seemed more sympathetic. The 'leader' of the riders was a different matter.  
  
"Who is your enemy?" He asked, suspicion in his eyes.  
  
"The Followers of Isengard" I replied before thinking. The man nodded and took motioned for the men to lower their spears. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. I debated asking them about their clothes and weapons, but decided better of it.  
  
"Here," He tossed me a water bottle and I caught it easily, nodding thanks before drinking deeply before throwing it back. With that he and the other riders took off and rode away. I was left standing, staring at the other three men.  
  
I turned away and sat on another rock, resting my head in my hands, aware that tears were dripping through my fingers. I was crying for all that I had lost, my true love, my best friend...and worse than anything...  
  
I had lost my will to live.


	2. Gender bender

_Chapter Two_

I have no idea how long I sat on the rock for. It didn't matter, nothing mattered to me anymore. I could feel myself slipping slowly into the dead zone and I didn't try to stop myself. Anything was better than this guilt; it wracked my body like ice. Ice ... my mind cast back to the boat we'd travelled on to get to England from Ireland. I had contracted pneumonia and Leith took care of me the whole way. At one point, I was sure I was going to die. I was so cold that I felt numb...but my body had such a high fever that it hurt to touch me.  
  
"If you die on me, then by Valar I swear I'll chase you into the next life and KILL you.." Leith had whispered ferociously into my ear. I smiled at the memory. I had loved him so much..._loved_. The word hit me like a physical blow. Loved … as in used to. Only then did the information truly sink in. He was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. I closed me eyes, playing memories of us back in my mind...watching my own silent film.  
  
I wished the cold hands of death would come and take me away right there, right then. Just take me to wherever the next life is...if there is one. Once again, I felt myself slipping...but as I fell into the abyss of my mind, Leith's words rung in my ears. He had loved me more than I would ever know...and he would kill me if I gave up.  
  
No.  
  
No I wouldn't let myself go. I had to fight; I had to protect the cause. Because no matter what happens to me, the Good Fight is still more important. I didn't believe that before, I thought this was a pointless, stupid war and I hated the world for plunging me into it. But that was before Leith. Before Grace. Before Delos. Before everything.  
  
After I met them, saw the hope in their eyes, I knew that this war was more important than any one person. The fate of New Middle-Earth was resting on my shoulders, and my shoulders alone. I chuckled at the utter irony.  
  
Faith Cambell, savoir of the world. Hah. Shit, I'm in trouble.  
  
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn't notice the three men approaching me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped up and spun around on my heel to face them, preparing for a fight. I needed to fight, I needed to be able to stop thinking for a few moments and let out all my frustration. However, it didn't work out that way.  
  
"We have no fight with you. Please, lower your weapon. We only wanted to know if you saw our friends last night when you were fighting the Orcs. They would look like children in your eyes," The dark haired man said, holding his hand below his hip to indicate height...or lack of it. I frowned ... Orcs? The word rung a bell but I wasn't quite sure where I'd heard it before. In fact, everything rung a bell here. It was like I knew what was happening, but I couldn't quite remember what. I decided it must have been some sort of nickname for The Followers of Isengard.  
  
"No, sorry. I wish I could help, though I was a little distracted by the fact that ALL MY PEOPLE WERE MURDERED!!!" I yelled. I knew it was unnecessary but I needed to release my anger somehow. The men seemed taken aback, but, to be honest, I didn't give a shit.  
  
"I am sorry for your loss; though now our friends may die as well I thought you may feel some empathy." The dark haired man said quietly. I shook myself and mentally scolded myself for being so rude. These guys might be able to help me.  
  
"No, I'm sorry," I said, dropping my eyes to the floor. "I just ... sorry. No, I haven't seen them, if I do, I'll tell them you're looking." I said, wincing slightly when I felt a throb of pain go through my shoulder.  
  
"You are injured." The blond man stated.  
  
"No shit Sherlock." I said before I could stop myself. I smiled weakly. That was one of Ethan's sayings. Before they could reply though, my eyes wandered to a sort of bonfire across the field and noticed the bad smell for the first time. I squinted at it and my frown deepened. It was a bonfire alright, with bodies burning. I gasped and stumbled backwards, lifting my trusty gun towards the men's faces. "WHO ARE YOU?" I asked, aware I was using my drill sergeant voice. I was also aware of the fact that blondie had his arrows out, and shortie pulled an axe from under his cloak. "ANSWER ME!" I shouted, pointing my gun at the dark haired man. He put a hand on blondie's arm and he reluctantly put away his arrows silently.  
  
"Please, calm yourself. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, these are my companions, Gimli son of Gloin and Legolas Prince of the woodland realms." Again, the names were strangely familiar. I chose to ignore the nagging feeling that I knew these people.  
  
"Alright, who the hell is THAT?" I said, nodding towards the bonfire, swallowing bile that had gathered in my throat. I had seen a lot of death and pain in my life, but it still disturbed me. When I was briefly captured back in Berlin, I was held in the torture chambers. The screams of my fellow inmates will never leave me.  
  
"Those are Orcs." Gimli said shortly.  
  
"Oh." I said, embarrassed. "Sorry I thought they were..." I sighed before dropping my gun back onto my lap. Gimli...the name rolled in my head, uncovering memories before I had time to blink. Gimli. Short. Dwarf. I shut my eyes, tracing my thoughts back to their source. My memories took me to my grandparent's house when I was small. They both used to smell like peppermint and cinnamon...I used to sit on the rug in front of the hearth and they'd tell me stories. Stories about myths and legends of our ancestors...tales of dragons and...  
  
It hit me like a tidal wave. These people ... this land ... It was world my grandmother told me about!! The myths of ancient Middle-Earth. The tales of elves, wizards and the fight for power. The names flooded my mind. Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Gandalf the Grey, Boromir of Gondor, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took...  
  
The old stories overtook me and I was thrown back into the worlds of fantasy and legends I had pretended to play in as a small child. But they weren't legends...because I was here. I was in ancient Middle-Earth. I shook my head, eyes still clamped shut, ignoring the concerned voices about me. I had to concentrate; I had to figure this out.  
  
It was impossible, wasn't it?  
  
I argued with myself about the likelihood of the situation. I absently wondered if maybe this was the dead zone. If I was back in New-castle, zoned out and this was all an elaborate illusion. It seemed to make a lot more sense than the idea that I'd...travelled back in time. My shoulder was now becoming a serious issue, I could barely register the pain it was so terrible ... and that was not a good sign. When I opened my eyes, the shapes around me were fuzzy and I could focus on anything, I only saw colours and movement. It scared the hell out of me. After that I saw grey and then the world turned black.  
  
When I awoke, I was on a horse. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant way to wake up. I yelped and clung to the white horse's neck, shutting my eyes. I felt a warm hand on my back and I looked around sharply to see an old man with a long white beard. His eyes were a greyish blue and were wiser than any I had ever seen. I could barely register who he was, for the pain in my shoulder was worse than any pain I'd been through before.  
  
And take it from me; I've been through a lot of pain in my life. I closed my eyes and desperately tried to ignore the galloping horse beneath me. It brought too many memories back.  
  
Like when we were back in Ireland and we had to fight a bunch of Clucks to get to the shore so we could be off to England. I had stolen one of their prized black horses and Grace and I had ridden together through the battle field shouting out orders and directing the stragglers. We won that day, and then we set the horse free to graze. I would give anything to be that horse now. Free of sorrow or duty.  
  
I let myself drift black into unconsciousness to ease the pain and the next time I awoke, I was being lifted gently off the horse. I opened my eyes and blinked numbly at my surroundings. We were in the town that I had been travelling to. Though, it looked more like a memorial service than a town. All the people were in black and we got nothing but harsh stares.  
  
"You'd get a better welcome in a graveyard..." Gimli muttered. I was too weak to say anything so I studied the man who was carrying me. It was Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. I scolded myself for not realizing before, it was so obvious. His ears were pointed and his long golden hair was far too clean and soft to be human. I groaned and tried to lift my head but in the end I let myself be carried. It was a nice sensation, one I'd never experienced.  
  
I noticed the man who was holding me was speaking,  
  
"This...boy may die, he is a hero of you're people, a slayer of Orcs, do you not wish him to live?" I frowned for several reasons. The first being that Legolas had stated I was in a near fatal condition, the second, that he had referred to me as a boy. Amazingly, even through my pain and grief, this simple mistake made me utterly furious.  
  
I wasn't beautiful but I sure as hell didn't look like a boy. I limply lifted my head and attempted to protest, but the effort was far too strenuous so I settled for an affronted grunt before falling back into the world of blackness.  
  
Some time later, my eyes flitted open and I found myself lying on a hard wooden bench. As my eyes focused, I reached for the gun on the table above me, listening in disbelief at the sound of metal clashing onto the cold stone floor. I noticed Gimli sitting on top of a thin, pale man and realized with a jolt that he must be Wormtongue. I struggled to get a clear view of the Throne in which the King of Rohan, Theoden, sat. I watched open- mouthed as his face began to look younger and younger and his wizened frame straightened out. I was vaguely aware that he was speaking, though I was in to much pain to make sense of it.  
  
After the battle of Belfast I thought I had seen everything. And I mean everything. Right then I realized with dismay, that I had seen nothing compared to this.  
  
The tale of Wormtongue's betrayal rung in my ears and I don't know how I managed to drag myself outside, following King Theoden as he was about to lop Wormtongue's head off. Right on cue, Aragorn put a hand on Theoden's shoulder.  
  
I remembered that Wormtongue had played a large part in the story and how he was an ally of Sauron so I did the thing I was trained to do.  
  
I shot him in the head.  
  
"Eil sidoor nablee famount!!" I shouted out of pure habit, before closing my eyes and letting my tired aching body collapse.  
  
I was reluctant to open my eyes because for the first time in two years, I was sleeping in a bed. A proper, warm, comfy bed. Suddenly, the thought that maybe this had all been one horrible nightmare and that I was at home in bed hit me like a brick wall and I held my breath as I opened my eyes. I bit my lip and felt unshed tears prick my eyes when I saw that I wasn't in my room.  
  
I was in a large, stone chamber. It had beautiful tapestries at the windows and there was a roaring fire going in the huge mantel near the queen-sized wooden bed I was lying in. I noticed in awe that I was lying underneath a pile of furs and a huge blue quilt that had stories woven into its patchwork.  
  
Believe me, when you've been getting two or three hours of sleep on hard sand or grass, you take the time to notice the little things.  
  
I jumped when the heavy wooden swung open and I winced at the throb in my shoulder when I spun around to face it. My 'soldier' instincts kicked in and I set myself in defence position. I didn't relax when it was a blond- haired woman who walked in, looking startled.  
  
If I had learnt anything, I had learnt appearances could be very deceiving.  
  
"Please, do not be alarmed, I only wanted to speak with you." She said softly. I instantly felt a wave of grief wash over me, she sounded so much like Grace it was uncanny.  
  
"Sorry, sit." I said gruffly, fighting the tears that threatened to escape and motioning to the edge of the bed. She did so, understandably hesitant.  
  
"I wanted to thank you." She said, averting her eyes from mine. I frowned; this was all too much to take in.  
  
"What for?" I asked, not really listening. The reality of the situation hadn't really sunk in yet. If you could even call it a reality. I had been transported to ancient Middle-Earth after I failed my mission and got my entire platoon shot.  
  
Somehow it sounded even more unbelievable when I thought about it in that context.  
  
"For many things. For killing Wormtongue with your strange weapon and helping my Father by not making him have to wash the blood from his hands....Aragorn also told me that you are a slayer of Orcs and that you're friends died in battle..." She said gently. I snapped my eyes up to her face and assumed the most expressionless face I could manage.  
  
"Don't mention it." I replied simply. She seemed to get the hint and she got up and walked back towards the door,  
  
"Please, what is your name good Sir?" I snorted at the 'good sir' part. The idiots still thought I was a boy. I glanced down at my chest and realized that it was covered with blankets. I wondered absently if I really was that ugly.  
  
"Faith." I said shortly. "Yours?" I added out of courtesy.  
  
"Eowyn." She replied before hurrying out of the room. I felt bad at treating the woman so rudely, if my memory served me, Eowyn wanted to fight and help. Of course, anyone who _wanted_ to fight must be ignorant of the horrors that come with it.  
  
I glanced down at my cut and sore hand, smiling weakly at the ring on my finger. Leith had given it to me just before we began fighting. It had been in his family for generations, and it was the only thing he had left of them. It was strange to think it was the only thing I had left of him. The thought finally sunk in and I did something I hadn't done since he had been killed underneath that stone rock....I cried. I cried for him, for Grace, for my people, for freedom...and I cried for me. I was the last one left; I was the only living 'Freedom fighter'.  
  
And this time, I wasn't going to screw things up.  
  
I dragged myself out of the comfortable bed and found my clothes and boots in the corner. My clothes had been washed. I smiled as I put them on, my face clean from my salty tears. I ignored my body's protests as I slipped on my black-regulation t-shirt and pulled on my camouflage jacket. As I was tying up my laces, I glanced at the identity chip in my wrist. We all had one planted in us; it glowed red when there wasn't a pulse. Handy little devise when you were looking for survivors. I sighed as I dragged myself towards the door, my body tense and on full alert. I was painfully aware that I didn't have my gun, and without my gun, I felt very uneasy.  
  
When I opened the door I wasn't particularly surprised to find a long narrow stone corridor with endless doors leading to mysterious rooms. I automatically made a mental plan of the place, deciding which doors I would hide in if it came to it.  
  
I noticed a mirror on one of the walls and I stood in front of it excitedly. I hadn't seen a mirror in...Well, a very long time. I watched my eyes grow wide when I stared into the reflection. My hair was blacker than I remembered, grown just past my ears. My dark-blue eyes held a pain and wisdom that I had no idea I possessed. I touched my bruised face in wonder, and tried to remember if my lips had always looked so pouty, and if my skin had always been so clear and so white it almost glowed.  
  
I shook myself and almost laughed at how big-headed I sounded before turning away. I jumped when I saw Legolas regarding me silently.  
  
"By Valar, why'd you sneak up on me! You made me jump!" I asked, annoyed and embarrassed at not noticing him beforehand. He seemed slightly taken aback at my outburst but he carried on looking at me, arms folded neatly across his chest.  
  
"How do you know of such things?" He asked quietly, seeming slightly puzzled. All I could blurt out was,  
  
"What?"  
  
"You are a woman and yet you fight. You are a human and yet you can speak the ancient tongue only spoken by wizards and Elves. You are beautiful, yet you wear men's clothing and cut you're hair shorter than a warriors. Why?" He asked. I raised my eyebrows and fought the sudden impulse to laugh manically. Maybe they weren't all idiots.  
  
"I fight because it is my duty. I speak the 'ancient tongue' because it was asked of me. I wear 'men's clothes' because I can't very well fight in a dress and my hair is short because it is easier to keep. Anything else?" He seemed to miss the sarcasm in my statement and seemed to think for a minute.  
  
"What was the weapon you carried and who made it?" I rolled my eyes.  
  
"It's called a machine gun and my people made it." I replied shortly, "And speaking of which, where is it?" Legolas looked disapprovingly.  
  
"It," He said spitting out the word like it was an orc, "Is in safe keeping until it is needed." I nodded, fair enough.  
  
"My turn. Why does everyone else think I'm a man and where is Gandalf?" I asked, using my most commanding tone. And believe me, ordering a bunch of children with guns to safety, makes me sound pretty damn commanding. Legolas motioned for me to follow him and began walking quickly.  
  
"It is not our place to reveal your identity. We do not know what reasons you have for keeping such a...male persona. The nurses who attended to you are sworn to secrecy." He said as he led me through countless cold corridors. I struggled to listen and remember the way at the same time, so in the end, I gave up trying to map the maze and I followed him, quietly thinking about my situation and what to do next.  
  
I was pulled out of my thoughts when I found myself walking into a hall … I recognized it instantly to be the hall in which I had seen Theoden's return. I noticed Aragorn and Gimli sitting on the bench that I had been lying upon earlier. Two young children sat in front of the fire, wolfing down food with Eowyn fussing over them.  
  
"We will go to Helm's deep and hide there. My people will not fight this war Gandalf." He was saying. I felt a pang of respect for the man, he was only trying to help his people. He didn't know hundreds would be slaughtered before they got help.  
  
But I did, and I wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time.


	3. Cliffs

_Chapter Three_

"Prince Legolas," I said quietly, "I need some bandages..." Legolas's blue eyes widened and he glanced at my shoulder. I shook my head," A corset would be even better," I added, discreetly pointing at my chest. If I was going to pose as a man, I wasn't going to be a convincing one with breasts. Legolas gave a bemused smile that reminded me of Leith and he awkwardly leaned to my ear.  
  
"If you go down the corridor, the first door to your right should contain a wardrobe..." He said. I nodded and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking quietly into the room. I finally found a comfortable-looking corset, which only had a few buttons. It took a while to pull it on, but I managed it. I looked in the beautifully carved mirror and I messed up my hair, trying to appear a little more male. There was no way I was going to be forced into a dress and treated like a moron just because I was a girl and I couldn't very well start a women's rights campaign, so this would just have to do.  
  
I wondered vaguely what Caleb and Ethan would say if they saw me now...the thought made a mixture of amusement and grief rise in my chest and I swallowed hard before making my way back to the hall.  
  
This time, my arrival was noticed by the occupants of the court, and many bowed at me. My eyebrows shot up, I was chuffed by the treatment, but extremely worried at the same time. What if they expected me to be some sort of...super warrior? Sure I could fire a machine gun, and I'd already had basic training in sword-fighting and archery...but I was no Robin Hood.  
  
I remembered my manners suddenly and I bowed low to King Theoden, who nodded his head graciously.  
  
"Ahh, Faith is it?" He said. I gulped and wondered if the name was considered feminine here. If a guy was called 'Faith' back home, he'd be ridiculed...after being beaten up.  
  
"Yes sire," I said nervously.  
  
"Strange name, but fitting none the less. Where are you from? Are you from my lands?" I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and shook my head.  
  
"No Sire...I am from no land in particular. My parents died in battle and I have been travelling all over Middle-Earth ever since..." I said. I wasn't lying … but I wasn't exactly telling the whole truth.  
  
"So you are a traveller? I thought as much, judging by your different clothing and manner of speaking. I should have like to meet your parents; surely they were an honourable pair to bring up such a brave young man. I am sorry for your loss." Theoden said. A pang of nostalgia went through me when I realized he had an uncanny resemblance to my father. In fact, almost everyone here reminded me of someone; it was like I just couldn't escape the memories of what I had lost ... how I had failed.  
  
"As am I for yours," I replied, remembering my manners, "I never had the honour of meeting your son, though I'm sure he was a great man." I said, meeting his eyes. He smiled weakly and I gave an inward sigh, my memory was correct...for once.  
  
"Thank you. Where did you acquire your strange weapon?" He said, changing the subject. I hesitated before answering,  
  
"One of my companions was a master blacksmith. He fashioned it for me, though I am sorry I do not know how to make one. I can show you how to use it if you would like." I said, bowing my head.  
  
"That will not be necessary. I have something to ask of you, would you accompany us to Helm's Deep? That weapon could be useful in the event of an attack."  
  
"Of course you're Majesty." I said, hiding my smile. This had been easier than I had anticipated. Theoden nodded and clapped his hands. I listened in growing anticipation to the sounds of men outside, telling people we were evacuating to Helm's Deep. The thought of the coming battle made my stomach churn, and I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline through my body.  
  
I was going to war...again.  
  
The realization was terrifying. I shook my head, dizziness taking a hold over me. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I jumped and turned to see Gandalf. He reminded me of my Grandfather...kind and wise, with a sense of humour to go with it.  
  
"Thank you..." I said quietly. He merely smiled and began steering me with him, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli following. As we drew nearer to the stables, I began getting curious. What did he want with me? I found out when we got into the stables themselves. They were huge, and the smell of hay and horse dung assaulted my nostrils. The smell was sickening but seemed to remind me that this was real ... it was happening ... well, as far as I knew at least. We stopped and Gandalf turned me to face him and the others.  
  
"What is the name of your weapon?" He asked, his wise eyes searching mine. I stared right back into his, wondering whether I should reply truthfully or not.  
  
"It's called a machine-gun." I said, not bothering with the technicalities. Gandalf nodded and smiled gently.  
  
"Such a pity one as young as you has seen so much pain," He said quietly before continuing his journey into the stables. I stood still a few seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened. I seemed to have passed some sort of...test. I thought about this as I followed him and the others, not paying attention to the words spoken.  
  
That had always been a problem of mine, when I'm thinking; everything else sort of...disappears. Leith and Delos would tease me mercilessly for it...what I would give to have them tease me again now. I dismissed the thought, not wanting to fall back into the depression I had grown accustomed to. No, I had to move on and fight; there was no time for grieving.  
  
I jumped out of the way in shock as Gandalf's horse ran towards me, with him astride it. I flattened myself against the wall and tried to control my pounding heart as he shouted a farewell and rode off, south I think.  
  
"Are you alright Milady?" A concerned voice to my right asked. My eyes widened and I roughly slapped a hand over the shocked man's mouth.  
  
"Don't ever call me that in public!" I hissed, looking around the stables to make sure nobody had heard. The last thing I needed was for my cover to be blown. I sighed deeply and dropped my hand, slightly amused at the expression on Aragorn's face.  
  
"I...I apologize...what should I call you?" He stuttered, still looking taken aback.  
  
"Just call me Faith. Not Mr. Faith, not Miss Faith and certainly not Lord Faith...Got that?" I added, peering at the bemused dwarf and elf standing behind Aragorn's tall figure.  
  
"Faith, 'tis a good name." Gimli said before grunting approval and making his way back towards the castle. I smiled in spite of myself and followed, ignoring the open-mouthed looks I was receiving from the other two men. Obviously, they had never met a girl who wouldn't take crap from anyone. Well, before me that is.  
  
"So, when are we to leave to Helm's Deep?" I asked Gimli, easily catching up with him thanks to my long legs.  
  
"Within the hour. You should ask one of the guards to retrieve your weapon before we head out or you might not have time," Gimli said, glancing up at me.  
  
"I will ... thanks for the heads up." The small man paused mid-step and frowned.  
  
"Heads up?" I blinked and mentally kicked myself for being so careless. I had to be careful I didn't rub off on them too much...I mean, you can't very well have the hero's of legends saying stuff like 'Cool' and 'Yo, 'sup'. It would take the edge off things.  
  
"Heads up...it means thank you for warning me." I said absently. We turned and I stood still, in awe of the beauty of the place. "Where is this?" I breathed. Manmade hills were everywhere; each hill was covered in some sort of white flower that smelled like lilies. The place seemed like some sort of graveyard...solemn but beautiful beyond description.  
  
Now I have seen a lot of nice things on my expeditions. I mean, I had seen basically every single country's sites and forests...but nothing could compare to this place. The place felt as though it were buzzing with memories and legends so old that most people had forgotten them...I could almost hear it the whispers of the dead...either that or the constant sound of gunfire had finally taken a toll on my ears. I preferred to believe my first idea.  
  
"It is the royal burial grounds..." Gimli said sombrely, stopping to look as well. I could feel his eyes on me next...like he was searching for something, making sure I could be trusted.  
  
I seemed to pass the test because I then heard his pleasantly gruff voice saying that we should move. I reluctantly pulled myself away and after several minutes of haggling and hassling, found my gun and back-pack safe and sound in a storage room. One of the guards had made a joke about how I was too small to carry it, though he shut up when I gave him my famous mess-with-me-and-you-will-be-sorry look.  
  
I passed Eowyn as I was making my way outside and watched her silently as she wistfully put down the light sword she had been holding while talking with Aragorn. I decided this was the best time to apologies for my earlier behaviour and I approached her cautiously. Never could be too careful when a frustrated woman with a pointy implement was around.  
  
"Lady Eowyn?" I asked quietly, trying to make my voice a little deeper and gruffer so I didn't come off as a nancy boy whose voice hadn't broken yet. She looked around sharply and seemed to tense up a little when she saw it was me. I couldn't blame her, I hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs the last time I saw her.  
  
"Sir Faith. It is good to see you looking so well." She said hesitantly...she looked as if she half expected me to scold her or something.  
  
"Thank you. I...I wanted to apologize for my rude manner when you approached me earlier, I had no right to take out my ill temper on you," I said, thanking my mum for making me read all those old plays. At least I would sound like I was one of them when I spoke...I couldn't very well start saying 'You wuz up ma boo' in the ancient realms.  
  
"There is no need to apologize, I understand you were upset and I should not have acted so insensitive." She replied, offering me a weak smile. I smiled back and shook my head slightly in disbelief. "Is there something wrong?" She asked, looking wary of me. I realized I must have been staring and I blinked hard.  
  
"No no ... you just remind me of my ... of my friend." I said cursing the way my voice shook slightly. I hoped she hadn't noticed ... and if she had, then she was far better at tact than I was.  
  
"What is she like?" She asked me gently.  
  
"She ... Grace was very unique. Most thought she was weak because she was quite small and looked so ... innocent. I knew better though. She was a warrior, and a brave one at that. She died yesterday fighting for the cause." _And I couldn't save her..._ I added silently, swallowing the lump in the back of my throat. Eowyn looked shocked and rather put out.  
  
"She was a warrior?" Eowyn breathed, looking half horrified and half excited.  
  
"Yes...Why?"  
  
"For the Roherrim, women are not expected to do anything but marry and provide children for her husband..."  
  
"Well that's got to suck..." I said before I could stop my self. "I mean...," I said quickly, noticing the bewildered look that passed across her face. But I didn't get to tell her what I meant because we heard a horn blowing out side, signalling it was time to go.  
  
"We should go now. It was good to talk with you Lady Eowyn, though our conversation was shorter than I would have liked," I said almost snorting at the blush that appeared on her cheeks.  
  
"Maybe we can continue it when we are on the journey," She said, smiling,  
  
"Yes, maybe," I replied before turning away and walking out into the damp morning air. I helped a few of the older women pack load their things onto the various carts, marvelling at the unfamiliar feeling of not being in charge. I had forgotten what it was like, not having to think about when the next meal for you people is going to come ... not having to worry over every persons well being ... not feeling responsible for everyone else's actions ... it was refreshing.  
  
"Can you walk or would you rather ride?" Aragorn asked me as I hauled the last of the food packages onto one of the donkey drawn carts ... give me a truck any day.  
  
"No, I'm fine walking. My shoulder has improved no end," I said, hoping I sounded more convincing than I felt. I may have been in pain, but there was no way I was voluntarily going to ride a horse. Aragron nodded reluctantly before helping Gimli onto a horse which was easily four times his height.  
  
That dwarf had a lot more guts than I did.  
  
As we walked, I mainly stayed at the back, making sure there weren't any stragglers and occasionally scooping up a child and presenting it to its hysterical mother. Normally, I would have used the time to think and relax … but the threat of being attacked by mutant orcs riding on wolves that looked like Britney Spears with rabies was pretty distracting. By the time the sun was in the middle of the sky, I was as tense and alert as I had been when we were sneaking through the fields of Scotland.  
  
Something wasn't right, why had they not attacked yet? I knew that the orcs were bound to attack us on our journey to Helms Deep, because it was one of my favourite stories … about how Aragorn fell off the cliff but staggered back in time for the infamous battle. The question was when this was all going to happen. I wondered if maybe it wouldn't happen because I had killed Wormtongue so maybe Sauron wouldn't be able to know we were headed for Helms deep.  
  
The thought made my stomach twist, because if I had changed something then I might end up changing the outcome of the battle ... not a good idea. I made my way to the front, slipping through the crowd, an expert at seeming invisible. It's very easy to act invisible and I've gotten so good at it, I often have to remind myself that I'm there ... well, almost.  
  
I wondered vaguely if I should perhaps get onto a horse, but I quickly dismissed the idea when I noticed the only one available was at least twice my height and looked meaner than my old history teacher.  
  
"Aragorn!" I called to him, he was talking with Eowyn quietly, trying not to laugh at Gimli who was presently on the floor, shouting,  
  
"I meant to do that! I meant to fall!" Aragron turned looking inquisitive and I speeded up my pace when I noticed two scouts at the front ... it was them who were the first to die.  
  
"Up at the front! ORCS!!!" I yelled, readjusting my gun and loosening my shoulder in preparation for the onslaught. The people around me screamed but were quickly calmed and were on the move while I and the other men rode towards the hills. I ran, struggling to keep on my feet and stubbornly ignoring the pains in my shoulder. The two men at the front easily killed the orc and shouted,  
  
"IT WAS A SCOUT!!!" My breath caught in my throat as I neared the top and saw the terrifying sight of hundreds of those god-awful creatures riding towards us at top speed.  
  
"MOVE OUT AND SURROUND THEM BEFORE ATTACKING! WE CAN'T AFFORD ANY CASUALTIES!!!" I yelled on instinct. The men heeded my orders and did so, the archers shooting first and the guys with swords swiping off the orcs heads like they were cutting up apples. I took decided against using my gun; I needed to save the bullets for the battle in Helms deep. So, instead, I picked up a discarded sword and ran in, waving it around like a mad woman and shouting obscenities. I found that cutting off orc heads was a little harder than it looked, and far messier. As I helped Gimli up from underneath a pile of dead wolf things, I glanced at the cliff nearby. Aragorn and the orc were fighting and were getting closer and closer. It was only then that I realized Aragorn's left arm seemed limp and broken ... without his help, the battle would have been lost. What if me being here changed something and he died because his arm stopped him swimming? What then?  
  
I couldn't let it happen. So I did something that nobody suspected I would do ... something I wouldn't have suspected I would do.  
  
I ran over and pushed Aragron out of the way just in time and tumbled off the cliff myself.


	4. Water

**Chapter 5**

I was flying through the air like an eagle. The wind lashed across my face and I closed my eyes in a mixture of fear...and of relief. It would finally be over. The pain, the guilt, the duty...in a matter of seconds I would have died from plunging off a cliff into the water below to save someone else...  
  
Rather dramatic exit if I do say so myself.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, I heard my name being called but it was too late. I knew I would be gone soon. I would be with Grace and Leith soon...I wonder why I told Eowyn she was my sister...I mean, we weren't related or anything but...I always felt I had a connection with her somehow. It's strange to think we were best friends...we were so very different. Me, a tough soldier who's only concern was getting me and my loved ones to safety...and Grace, a kind slight girl who cared for any living thing in need, regardless of who or what they are.  
  
I was rushing towards the water faster and faster.  
  
Oh...Ow.  
  
It was like needles are pushing into me all over my body when I hit the water. I let my body sink underneath it's cool surface and allowed the current to take me where ever it wanted. My eyes were suddenly open underneath the water and I stared at the strange underwater plants, in wondering when my lack of oxygen would become painful. I felt the heavy black mist threatening to overcome me and I gladly allowed it to swallow me whole.  
  
"Faith..." A familiar voice whispered. I tried to groan but my voice wouldn't cooperate. I was so very cold...I forced my eyes to open and hissed when the bright light of the sun se-emed to blind me. I shut my eyes tight again and this time opened them more slowly. I was on the bank of a river, alone, wet, hungry and too exhausted to move. "Faith..." The voice whispered again. My heart skipped several beats and I held my breath, "C'mon baby, you have to get up, I don't have much time," I tried to smile or laugh...or SOMETHING to show how happy I felt, but I just couldn't. My body had decided it had enough of my exertions and seemed to have given up. Somehow, I managed to croak out one thing,  
  
"Leith?"  
  
"Yeah baby-girl, it's me. Listen, you have to get up now. You have to go and help the people at Helms Deep...and you have to destroy Saroumans book to stop the war happening all over again...You cannot give up...OK?" Tears streamed down my face and I searched wildly with my eyes to find the source of his voice. "Just 'cause I'm not with you physically, doesn't mean I'm not watching over you. I love you and I always will, but you have to move on and fight for these guys. They need you. I have to go now but promise you'll try OK? Faith?" The tears poured harder but I managed to croak,  
  
"Okay...don't go..."  
  
"I have to. You have to let me go Faith; we'll see each other again when it's time. You have to live your life without me babe. You have to move on. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. Ten ad gevedir (until we meet again)...I love you."  
  
"NO LEITH!!" I managed to choke...but he was gone. I lay still for what seemed like years, Leith's words rolling over in my head.  
  
A large sloppy thing nuzzled my neck and I opened my eyes in shock to find a pair large light brown eyes staring into mine. "Shoo horsey..." I whispered. The horse nuzzled my neck again, insistent that I get up. I have to move on...I thought, the voice in my head had the determined edge I used when my mind was set. I slung my arm over the horse's neck and it kneeled and helped me mount it. I was relieved to find the horse had a saddle and stirrups, because there was no way I would have been able to ride it bareback in normal circumstances, never mind when I was exhausted and injured. It was then that I realized I had no idea where to go, I didn't even know where I was.  
  
But the horse seemed to know.  
  
It allowed me to get my bearings and grab a tight hold before galloping top speed up along the banks, trying to get to higher ground. I closed my eyes, allowing the horse to do whatever it wanted and trying to ignore the painful shocks the jarring ride sent through my body and the fact that I had lost Leith's ring.  
  
The next morning, we were still galloping through the countryside. The sky was grey and I saw storm clouds far off in the distance, it seemed like the horse and I were heading towards it. I talked quietly with the horse, comforted by the fact that I knew it wouldn't answer. I just had to set my thoughts straight, get them out in the open.  
  
"Had Leith really been there? Or had it been a wonderful illusion due to a hit in the head? It wasn't possible was it? To speak to someone who's dead...well, it's no more impossible than travelling back in time I suppose...what do you think? I suppose I should give you a name or something, eh?" I croaked, ignoring the pounding in my ears and the extraordinary amount of blood that was leaking from my bad shoulder. "How about..." I regarded the horse beneath me carefully. It was a light brown colour, and it's mane was as black as my hair, "How about Spirit? Like the cartoon...you look kind of like him," I said, marvelling at how crazy I must have seemed to an onlooker...honestly, talking to your dead beloved was one thing but talking to your horse was something else entirely.  
  
I stiffened at the way I had just referred to Leith as...dead. And worse than that, I'd not even felt the pang of guilt I'd grown accustomed to. Of course, I still felt familiar little lump of grief in the back of my throat, but there was no guilt that accompanied it...just sadness. The jerk of Spirit stopping made me look up, and my breath caught in my throat...the sight before me was far more terrifying than anything I had ever seen in my life.  
  
Hundreds and thousands of horribly disfigured...THINGS, each armed with sharp swords and gruesome looking daggers, were marching in sync towards us. They were far away, so they probably didn't notice me, but that didn't change the flow of adrenaline rushing through my body. I controlled my shaking hands with ease thanks to years of practice, and leaned kicked gently into Spirit's sides. He seemed to get the message and soon we were galloping off into the horizon.  
  
As we sped through the strange rocky countryside, I caught sight of a sort of fortress, far off in the distance. I threw my good arm up in the air, giving a shout for joy...we had made it.  
Soon enough, I had come to the huge gates of Helm's Deep and the guards let me in happily, sending a young boy to run and tell the others. I climbed of Spirit, giving him a pat on the neck and wincing at the fact that my entire behind had gone completely numb...I would have given anything just then for a big old Range Rover, complete with air conditioning and a radio.  
  
The blissful thoughts were cut short by the sight of a small, bushy red thing running towards me. I jumped, startled when I realized the thing was actually Gimli.  
  
"You are the single most insane person I have ever known!" he shouted, frowning before looking around to make sure nobody was there and kissing the back of my hand like they do in the movies. "And the bravest woman I have ever had the honour to meet," he added gruffly. I smiled widely, unable to think of anything to reply. But before I could, he moved away and hobbled off into the crowd that had just began to gather.  
  
I tilted my head when I saw Legolas standing at the large wooden doors I was heading for, his face utterly expressionless. If he was surprised I was there, he didn't show it.  
  
"You're late," he said, his tone neutral but a hint of laughter within it. I raised an eyebrow at the elf and placed a hand on my hip. "And you look terrible," he added, sounding exactly like Caleb in one of his more annoying moods. I fought the urge to grin and instead said,  
  
"You would take to a lady like that?" I said quietly, then raising my voice I added, "I risk my life for a man I barely know, I lose my ring..." I was about to continue my rant when he held out his hand and opened his palm. There, glinting in the sunlight...was Leith's ring. I stared at it for a second before grabbing it and pulling it back onto my finger before pausing...wondering what to say. Instead of saying anything, I pulled the taller elf into a bear hug, smiling at his tense surprise before pulling back and roughly wiping the tears from my eyes. "Manen (how)?" I said, my voice a little hoarse from emotion. He smiled and shrugged a little before I stood up straight and tall, striding through the doors.  
  
The entire room became silent when I entered and you could easily have heard a pin drop.  
  
"Your Highness," I said, bowing as low as I could without making my back feel as though an elephant had played football on it. Aragorn stepped out from behind the king and rushed forwards stopping abruptly in front of me. His shook his head in what seemed to be amazement and reached out, touching my good shoulder gently to check if I was real. The poor guy must have felt seriously guilty.  
  
"Your alive..." he breathed.

I gave him a manic grin, "Looks like it," I said teasingly.

He laughed and lowered his voice, "Women never cease to amaze me," he said quietly.  
  
"Yeah well, get used to it because behind every great man is a woman," I said, using my favourite quote. He laughed again and without warning gave me a firm but gentle hug. I smiled into his shoulder before slapping his back, remembering guys always do that when they hug to assure each other of their 'machoness'. I pulled away and turned to face the King, flashing a quick smile at the astounded looking guard who had made fun of me back in Edoras.  
  
"How did you survive?" King Theoden asked, looking impressed.  
  
"That is a long tale, which I shall tell when there is time. Your highness, I come bearing grave news," I said, lowering my voice a few octaves again. "When I was riding here, I caught sight of a great host of Uruk-hai coming towards us from the North."  
  
"A great host you say?" King Theoden said. Had the situation been remotely funny, I would have laughed. Our conversation was going exactly like the one between Aragorn and Theoden in the old legends. It was only then that I realized with a jolt, that it was I who would be in those legends now. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating.  
  
"All of Isenguard has emptied,"  
  
"How many?" The old King asked, his eyes weary.  
  
"Ten thousand strong...at least," I said, managing to keep the shudder out of my voice.  
  
"Ten thousand?" King Theoden breathed. His eyes wide and his hands clenched into fists.  
  
"It is an army bred for a single purpose..." I paused before saying the famous line that made children shudder when their parents told them the story, "To destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall," I said, clenching my jaw. King Theoden narrowed his eyes and turned away from me, heading for the door.  
  
"Let them come," He hissed, his voice assuming the determined edge to it that any leader does when they know their people are going to be killed...I know, I've used it more times than I'd care to count.  
  
Aragorn and I followed him and were soon flanked by Gimli, Legolas and two guards. "I want every man and strong lad fit to bear arms ready for battle by nightfall," Theoden said to the closest guard as we walked. I sighed and shut my eyes briefly. I had forgotten the young boys would be fighting too...this whole situation was getting far too familiar for comfort. King Theoden lead us out onto some battlements and I felt bats fly around in my stomach when I looked out despite the knowledge we were going to win this battle. At the thought I remembered the most important thing that lead to the many of the deaths on our side.  
  
The drain in the wall.  
  
I remembered the bastard Sarouman had wrapped his greasy mitts on gun powder and had blown up the wall.

I interrupted king Theoden, "You Highness, we need to block up the drain," I said quickly.

He looked startled, "The what?" he asked, looking at me as though I had lost my mind.  
  
"The drain...down there, in the large wall. We have to block it up!" I said, my voice lilting with panic.  
  
"Why? If we block it up then we block off the stream," he said. I looked to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli but they looked just as bewildered as King Theoden.  
  
"I know this sounds insane...but you must trust me. That drain shall be the downfall of this keep..."  
  
"I have been fought many wars, Master Faith, I know how to defend my own keep!" He shouted, his face getting clouded with anger and stress. I took a deep calming breath and counted to three, wondering if it said in the 'how to be a man handbook' that you have to think you're right on every occasion and act like a stubborn ass.  
  
"I do not doubt that, Sire, but the coming battle is not like any that has ever been fought. When my companions and I went to fight, we sent several spies into Sarouman's ranks and we found out he has a new and terrible weapon in his hands that can do more damage than my own weapon by 100 fold," I said, thanking the Valar that I am such a consummate liar. King Theoden frowned and his eyes bore into mine. I could see the doubt and the uncertainty there so I said something that Delos would always say in order to convince me to do something. "It is better to safe than to be sorry," I said quietly. He blinked and nodded.  
  
"That it is. You have a wise head for such young shoulders, Master Faith, never forget that," he said before turning and instructing some guards to do whatever I told them. I thanked him and followed the guards down into the mines, choosing some of the larger men on the way there. I was rather glad to be out of Theoden's way at this point...I didn't want to be there when he lost his temper at Aragorn...the story was disturbing enough and I didn't want to spook myself. I kept reassuring myself that the Elves would come, that we would win. I tried not to think about the thought that scared me the most. I was never in the stories so of all the facts and the little things I did know that was going to happen...I didn't know one ever so crucial fact that affected me the most.  
  
Whether I was going to die in this battle or not.


	5. We will rock you

_Chapter Five_

"Right, begin piling the blocks here; leave a little space for the water flow so it doesn't flood inside...There, to the right! Make sure it's secure! Good, now keep doing that until it's filled!!!" I yelled instructions to the men using my drill sergeant voice, helping move the blacks as well as I could without reopening the hole in my shoulder which was steadily growing more painful...it didn't matter, I'd have it looked at after the battle. "Good job men!" I shouted when we'd finished, admiring the work we'd accomplished in such little time.  
  
I jumped when I felt a persistent tugging at the bottom of my shirt and I looked down to see a little girl. She had blonde hair and round blue eyes, only about five years old if that. I smiled at her and she tilted her head to one side, observing me carefully.  
  
"Are you a warrior?" She asked, placing her little hands on her hips. I fought the urge to laugh, and nodded, matching her serious demeanour. She then took my hand and pulled me with her, surprising me with her strength for such a little thing. I heard some of the men laugh good-natured and I looked over my shoulder, shrugging.  
  
"I cannot refuse a lady," I called to them, earning more laughs. The little girl didn't seem to notice and she led me up the many stairs, not saying a word. Finally, we came to a stop in front of a small group of young women, most holding babies and a few with young children cuddled in their laps.  
  
"Mama, I brought a warrior to hold baby Elondai," She said to a pretty woman with a tiny baby in her arms, who was presently screeching so loud that even I was impressed.  
  
"Maywyn!" The woman exclaimed, looking utterly mortified. She turned to me looking apologetic, "I am so sorry. You see, Elondai here his Da who was a warrior holds him so Maywyn thought..." I smiled and shook my head.  
  
"There is no need for apologies...would you like me to fetch his father?" I asked. The woman's face fell and I grimaced at my own tactlessness.  
  
"Nay, he was killed when the wild men attacked our village,"  
  
"I am sorry for your loss," I said sincerely. She smiled weakly,  
  
"Thank you," She replied quietly. The little girl Maywyn, however, seemed positively furious.  
  
"Mama, just let him hold Elondai for a minute!! He hasn't been quiet since this morning and I have you said your head aches!" She cried, hands back in their position on her hips. The girl's mother went dark red with embarrassment and to save the woman face I held out my arms,  
  
"Well it's worth a try, I had to take care of four babies this age and I can remember the aches and pains well," I said, smiling and mock- shuddering. At the time, it certainly was not a funny ordeal. One of the girls in my platoon had become pregnant with quadruplets and gave birth to them when we were in Italy...well, you can imagine.  
  
"Thank you so much," The woman said, her red colour not fading from her cheeks. She handed the baby to me and I prepared my ears for even louder shrieks...it obliged willingly and I winced. I suddenly had an idea and I did what my mother used to do when my baby cousin Annie was over and I rocked the baby gently in my arms, humming quietly to it and rubbing a hand in soothing circles on its little back. Much to my amazement, the baby's screams dissolved into hiccups and then it promptly fell asleep in my arms. I felt a pang of pain and regret wash through me...I would never have children.  
  
All the female captains of the platoons had our ovaries removed before we were allowed to fight so that there would be no complications and nothing to distract us...like babies.  
  
I handed the baby back with utmost care, making sure I didn't wake it back up. Even a soldier has their limits when it comes to auditory torture.  
  
"Thank you so much," The woman whispered, gazing at me with...awe? I smiled,  
  
"Don't thank me, thank Maywyn...it was her idea," I said, winking at the little girl. She beamed at me and set to work fiddling with her dolly. I turned to leave and was embarrassed to find almost a large group of the guards I had been working with staring at me in open-mouthed shock. I held up a threatening finger, "Not a word," I said, my tone low and dangerous. They all nodded in sync and several bit their lips to hold their laughter that died down quickly at the withering looks I shot them.  
  
"King Theoden wanted me to give you this back," One of them said as we walked towards the battlements. I smiled widely when I saw it was my gun and took it back eagerly, thanking the man. I had wondered where it had got to.  
  
I slung it over my left shoulder after making sure the safety catch was on, more at ease with my trusty weapon. In the old stories, all the best swords and weapons had names, so I had named my gun on the suggestion of Delos.  
  
After much deliberation, I settled on Mr.Bang-bang...sure it wasn't particularly inventive but I couldn't very well call it 'Robert' or 'Fluffy' or something now could I?  
  
I glanced at the sky, noting the storm clouds which had travelled nearer when a black moving cloud caught my attention. I squinted, the red glow of the setting sun making blurring my vision.  
  
When I realized what it was I shivered,  
  
"GET THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN INSIDE!!" I yelled to the men. There were several shrieks of dismay but by the time I looked around all the women and children were inside...I was quite impressed.  
  
"What's wrong!?!" Aragorn shouted from below.  
  
"SPIES FROM MORDOR!!" I shouted back, gesturing to the sky. He shut his eyes briefly and I recognize the stance he set himself in because I myself had been in that stance countless times before.  
  
He was afraid.  
  
Not afraid for his own life, but for the people around him. The bird-things were only the beginning, the first sign that it was really happening...that the time for battle was drawing closer. I turned to look back at the blood red sky and finally vocalized the question that had gnawed at my stomach for hours, "Where are you freakin' elves?" I whispered, straining my eyes to see any sign of the army that I knew was coming. I sighed and turned, jumping when I saw Legolas standing directly behind me. "I told you not to do that!" I cried indignantly, annoyed at being caught off guard.  
  
Twice. Twice the git had made me jump.  
  
Legolas smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked quietly, frowning. He shook his head a little,  
  
"Nothing, I'm just a little weary." He replied. "Did you truly ride all the way on that beast?" He asked suddenly, nodding his head towards Percy down below who was presently glaring at a stable boy.

"Yeah, I did." I said indignantly. Of course I rode a … hang on. A horse. I rode a horse. One of those massive, scary creatures that I'd had an irrational fear of since I knew what a horse _was. _Wow. And Percy wasn't a little carnival pony either. He was a large, mean spirited git of a horse. And I rode him. Hah.  

"...come, I am going to the armoury; you need more weapons than just that...thing," Legolas said, startling me out of my thoughts. I noticed he was eyeing my gun with obvious distaste. I rolled my eyes but nodded anyway and we walked in a comfortable silence to a large room in the keep. I blinked when I entered, trying to absorb the strange sight before me.  
  
Old men, young men, boys, teenagers...it seemed anyone who could wield a sword was in there...a few of the scrawnier lads didn't even look as though they could manage hold a sword never mind fight with it. Legolas and I found Aragorn and Gimli and Aragorn noticed my astonished expression.  
  
"Most of theses men have seen to many winters," He said grimly, observing one of the old men wincing when he bent down to pick up a shield.  
  
"Or too few," Legolas added, looking just as grim. It was then that I remembered Legolas despairing in the face of the coming battle and he and Aragorn having a fight...I would not let that happen. He and Aragorn only served to scare the men even more than they were now and the last thing these poor blokes needed was a case of the jitters. So, I looked around and spotted a large up-turned box and I proceeded to climb on top of it. I broadened my shoulders and took a deep breath,  
  
"LISTEN TO ME!" I shouted, using the loudest voice I could manage to get their attention through the noise of chatter and the clang of metal...and believe me, I can get pretty loud when I want to. The entire room went quiet and everyone turned to me. It was only then that the awful realization dawned on me...  
  
I had nothing to say.  
  
For all the hundreds of moral-boosting speeches I had given, for all my 'let's go kick ass' attitude, I could not think of one single thing to say. So I didn't say anything. I simply did the first thing that came to mind.  
  
I clapped.  
  
Clap clap -rest- Clap clap -rest-...soon everyone was at it, clapping in sync...I grinned and started singing the pre-battle lyrics that Caleb, Ethan and I had come up with.  
  
"Buddy you're a boy make a big noise  
Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day  
You fight evil's face,  
You ain't no disgrace,  
Kickin' their ass all over the place,  
  
We will we will rock you  
Singin'  
We will we will rock you  
  
Buddy you're a young man hard man  
Shoutin' in the street gonna take on the world some day  
You got blood on yo' face  
You ain't no disgrace  
Shootin' your arrows all over the place"  
  
Singin'  
We will we will rock you  
We will we will rock you  
  
Buddy you're an old man poor man  
Not pleadin' with your eyes gonna win this war some day  
You faith's shown on your face  
You aint no disgrace  
Somebody better put 'em back in their place  
We will we will rock you  
We will we will rock you" By the end of the song everyone was joining in the chorus and when it finished every person in the room cheered, waving their swords above their heads. I whooped with the rest of them and jumped back down, my job done. I found Gimli sitting alone and I frowned, wondering where Aragorn and Legolas had disappeared to. "Where are they?" I asked Gimli, my voice slightly hoarse from the excessive shouting.  
  
"Had an argument," He said flatly. I shook my head and sighed. Obviously operation 'abuse Queen lyrics and call them my own' had not been a total success.  
  
"What about?" I asked, suddenly tired.  
  
"Legolas thinks this battle is hopeless, can't say I blame 'im mind," he replied. I nodded, thankful for the small blessing that the racket I had started drowned them out. I talked with Gimli for a little while longer before picking out a small dagger and a crossbow, not bothering with any armour except a helmet. I pushed the dagger into the back of my boot behind the heel of my foot (always a handy place to keep weapons) and I strapped the cross-bow to my left hand side for easy access. The mood had really changed within the men and though I hadn't done much, it was enough to cheer them up a bit.  
  
I was just about to go back to the battlements for some Elf-spotting when a guard approached me.  
  
"King Theoden would like to speak with you," He said stiffly. I nodded, wondering if I had gone too far with my singing idea and jogged to the main hall. I attempted to flatten my hair a little with the palm of my hand while I waited but gave up and began pacing.  
  
"Lord Faith," A voice sounded behind me. I grimaced slightly and turned, bowing.  
  
"Sire," I said, my dread entering my voice. To my utter astonishment, King Theoden laughed.  
  
"Do not worry my boy, I am not angry," He said kindly. I looked up sharply,  
  
"You're not?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.  
  
"No of course not! I am impressed by your efforts to boost the men's spirits and I wanted to ask you if you would like to be captain under Lord Aragorn and Myself," He said, looking serious. If my eyebrows shot up any further, they'd be lost in my hair. I swallowed and took a deep breath to calm myself,  
  
"I would be honoured Sire," I said truthfully. He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. Luckily, it was not my injured one.  
  
"You are so much like my son," He said softly, tears welling up in his tired eyes. I averted my gaze, not wanting to embarrass him. He took a deep breath and patted my back, looking as though he were going to say something but a blast of a horn interrupted us.  
  
"ELVES!" I shouted, throwing my fist in the air for joy and running to the entrance with the King at my side. For a middle-aged man, that guy can sprint like nobody's business. I grinned when I saw the hundreds of Elves, marching in unison, perfectly disciplined...they reminded me very much of the Special Ops section of the 'Free countries alliance'. They finally came to a stop and an Elf at the front removed his helmet and came to stand at the front. His blond hair was a tone or two darker than Legolas's though he was just as handsome. His piercing blue eyes bore into the King's and he gave off a very powerful sort of aura.  
  
"Many years ago Elves and Men fought side by side. I am here to honour that alliance," He said, his voice powerful and cultured.  
  
Haldir.  
  
The name sprung to my mind just as Aragorn grasped the shocked Elf into a bear-hug and Legolas walked to stand behind him wearing an 'Elves kick ass don't they?' grin on his face. Gimli simply scowled at him, his beady eyes narrowing distastefully. Obviously, his fondness of Legolas did not extend to the rest of the Elven species.  
  
Aragorn turned and motioned for me to step forward and I did so, head held high despite my nervousness.  
  
"This is Faith," He began.  
  
"Captain under King Theoden and Lord Aragorn," I said interrupting him. Aragorn looked faintly surprised and Haldir simply looked shocked.  
  
"I did not know the people of Rohan allowed their wom..." I shook my head violently, pleading with my eyes for him to hold back his comments until later. He paused and tilted his head to the side a little before smiling and inclining his head ever so slightly.  
  
"It is an honour to meet you Lord Faith, I am Haldir, Captain of this army," He said, gesturing to the motionless Elves behind him. I smiled in relief and bowed a little.  
  
"Now introductions are over, let us prepare for the battle!" King Theoden said from behind us and I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat when I was hit hard by a memory brought on by my meeting with Haldir.  
  
This Elf was going to die today.  
  
I shuddered, deciding I wasn't going to let that happen.  
  
My mission was simple enough.  
  
Save the people.  
  
Save the cause...  
  
Or die trying.


	6. White Handprints

_Chapter Six_

I sat quietly on the small stonewall inside the hall, listening to the heated argument going on before me, marvelling at the immaturity of the three men. Two kings and an Elven captain who was thousands of years old were actually arguing about who should be able to call out orders in the battle. I sighed, deciding we'd wasted enough time and stood up, striding to the table where the supposed 'Grown-ups' were standing.  
  
"Look, if you three want to argue about unimportant shite, then that's your business. But frankly, I think we should be making battle-plans before we decide who's going to call them out," I said, crossing my arms. I glanced at Theoden and added, "Your Highness."  
  
The men looked uncomfortable and muttered about my idea being a good one, so we sat down around the huge map of the castle.  
  
"What do you suggest we should do, Captain Faith?" King Theoden asked several minutes later. I shifted in my seat, wondering how to reply. What if my input lost us the battle? I mean, what if my ideas for battle plans would end up ruining the entire outcome?

I sighed before replying carefully, "Well...I agree with Captain Haldir on that we should appoint the Elven archers here...And I agree with you that should place Rohan's men here and here..." I said, pointing to the map, "But, I think Lord Aragorn has a valid point that if the Uruk-hai somehow break through the front lines we will have no defense left to protect the main keep...so why don't we place about a hundred Elven archers here and about 50 of the Roherrim creating a horse-shoe around the top of the keep. We can place the younger lads up there and they can pour boiling oil over the sides and chuck rocks and things if the Uruk-hai break the archers," I said. Theoden smiled in approval and nodded, apparently pleased with my idea.  
  
Haldir began to disagree, stating that it was unlikely the Uruk-hai would even gain access, never mind breaking through 100 Elven archers but King Theoden interrupted,  
  
"It is better to be safe than sorry," he said forcefully, shooting me a quick smile. I fought the impulse to laugh and instead nodded shortly, raising an eyebrow at Haldir and daring him to try and argue.  
  
He didn't.  
  
We finally decided that Aragorn and Haldir would be directing the Elves and King Theoden and I the Roherimm. We shook hands and headed to our appointed spots, organizing the men into rows and giving instructions for what to do when the time of the battle came. I was so deep in thought I didn't even notice Haldir until he placed a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and cursed loudly, "DO ALL OF YOUR PEOPLE DO THAT OR IS IT JUST ME?" I shouted, furious at being caught out yet again by a bloody elf. The men around me made strangled noises that sounded very much like stifled laughter and Legolas and Gimli who were walking by actually had the audacity to bust out laughing. Haldir looked astonished and he took a step back,  
  
"I apologize for startling you," he began. I waved a dismissive hand at him.  
  
"No need, sorry for snapping. I'm just a little on edge," I said shooting a dark look at several of the younger boys who were sniggering quite openly...they stopped.  
  
"We all are," Haldir said gravely.  
  
"Yes, well, what did you want to talk to me about?" I said, eager to move on to a different subject. I knew if I lingered on the thoughts of the coming battle too much then I was liable to chuck myself off the top of the wall I was standing on.  
  
"I wanted to know who you are...really?" he said, lowering his voice. I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable at the mention of my real gender in such an open place.  
  
"I am a human soldier named Faith and I shall fight for these people. What more is there to know?" I replied, my tone neutral. Haldir raised an eyebrow and seemed to be studying me for a whole minute before he finally spoke.  
  
"There is nothing more I need to know. You are a good person with a true spirit young Faith, and I am honoured to be fighting beside you," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it, unable to wipe off the broad grin that had spread across my face.  
  
"Ditto," I replied simply.  
  
"Ditto?" he questioned, looking confused. I nearly slapped my forehead in frustration. When would these people learn about the wonderful ways of monosyllabic answers? There was only so much of "I thank thee kind and merciful Lord"s you can take before you want to teach people the phrase "Ta very much".  
  
"It means, I think the same of you," I said, plopping myself down on the step behind me so I could rest a bit before the battle. Hell, I'm not superwoman; even my feet get tired occasionally.  
  
Haldir eyed the mucky step with distaste and looked as though he were about to make an excuse and a hasty retreat so he wouldn't have to get his nice battle-clothes dirty.  
  
Bloody Elves.  
  
"Would you like to sit with me? Unlike you Elves, we weak mortals need a rest after organizing an entire army, falling off a cliff, being shot in the shoulder and attacked by hundreds of smell-ass Orcs...and not in that order either," I said, leaning back so my elbows were resting on the step behind me. To my surprise, Haldir simply laughed and he gracefully sat down next to me. How do Elves DO that?  
  
"It seems you have been busy the past few days," he said with mock seriousness. I rolled my eyes,  
  
"I think it's safe to say that is the understatement of the year," I said shaking my head.

Haldir smiled and lowered his voice, "I hope you do not think me as rude but I must say: You are by far, the oddest woman I have ever met," he said, his face serious but his eyes twinkling with laughter.  
  
"An odd woman who can kick your Elf behind any day of the week," I said poking him, "Unless...you're scared?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

Haldir smirked, "Is that a challenge?" he asked.

I grinned, "Yes. That's a challenge. I challenge you to a fight. No weapons. Think you can handle that?" I asked, watching his face carefully. If he was nervous, he was a damn good actor.  
  
"Yes, I think I can handle that. But I wouldn't want to hurt a woman," He said, obviously trying to get a rise out of me.

I simply smiled sweetly, "Neither would I," I said. Haldir narrowed his eyes but I ignored him and stood, brushing the dirt off my trousers. If he wanted to make a fool out of himself, who was I to stop him?  
  
"When shall this event take place?" Haldir asked warily. I paused, realizing the flaw in my little idea.  
  
"If we survive this battle, you're on," I said, holding out a hand. He shook it, his face set in the same expression as mine. The look of weary resignation one has when they know it's not likely they'll get out of this battle alive. If all goes to plan, I hope it's an expression nobody will ever have to see again.  
  
We said goodbye and Haldir went off to give his men (or should I say Elves?) some instructions. I sighed wearily, annoyed that the pleasant little distraction of bickering was gone and I would finally have to face the terrifying reality of war.  
  
As I directed the men and helped the younger ones to hold their swords correctly, I began to wonder why war had always looked so exciting and beautifully tragic in the old movies. Of everything I've ever learnt, it's that war and fighting is the furthest thing possible from beautiful OR exciting. Sure, your heart beats faster and adrenaline pumps through your veins, but it's not a good feeling. It's different from the rush you get when you're bungee jumping or something like that...it's not for fun. It's necessary to survive.  
  
That's all you think about in a battle. Survival. You just shoot whatever you think is a threat, whether the threat is on your side or not. So many people who have slipped into the dead zone did so because when the red-haze of battle had worn off, they look around and find they've killed their own men as well as the enemy. I can't even imagine the horror of what that would feel like...and I don't think I want to either.  
  
The aftermath of a battle scares me more than the actual fighting.  
  
When we were traveling to Newcastle, I would look around after a battle and see the pained faces, the parts of bloody meat that were once people, the devastation and the fire... and I wondered whether any of it is worth it. Worth this grief. I wondered whether we should just give up and join the enemy...it would be so much easier.  
  
But then, after I shed my tears...I would see Grace. Her face would be wet with tears and her gentle brown eyes would be filled with pain...but was always hope and innocence in them. And then I would know that I was fighting for her innocence, hers and every other kid out there who still hung onto the hope that we would win and everything would go back to normal.  
  
"Captain Faith!! What's that?!?" One of the boys near me shouted, pointing towards something in the distance. I squinted my eyes, annoyed at the lack of light, before gulping and pulling myself onto t higher step.  
  
"THE ENEMY!!!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. There was a collective gulp and I heard the other men calling the news to their comrades at the other end of the wall. My heart was in my throat as I sorted the men into their positions, checking that all of them could hear my orders from the steps I was standing on. I could only hope that my plan would work, there were never any guarantees on the battlefield. I heard Aragorn shouting in Elvish at his section and I smiled grimly at the words.  
  
'Show them no mercy, for they shall show you none.'  
  
Leith had said that just before the battle of Newcastle. I paused at the thought and observed the keep around us more carefully. The towers steps lead down into the heart of the keep and I put one of Theoden's guards in charge, telling him I'd be back in a second before jogging down the steps myself. As I descended, everything became more and more familiar until I was standing in a large-ish room in the middle. Great big wooden doors were at the head an I suddenly realized I was in the main hall. I looked around me, suspicion and fear rising in my chest...and there it was.  
  
The East window. The East window I had jumped out of, back at Newcastle when I lead Delos and the others into the forest ... to their deaths.   
  
I suppressed a scream and I sat on the floor with a thud. How was this possible? I had known that the castle in Newcastle had been rebuilt thousands of years ago, and that it was rumoured to be the site of many pivotal battles...I gulped hard and made a mental dam on the hysteria that was threatening to take over.  
  
I was sitting place where everyone I loved would die.  
  
I took several deep breaths and steeled myself. It hadn't happened yet. I hadn't failed them yet. It was only then that the realization hit me full force. I could stop this. I could stop the Great War of 2056. I could save them all. All I had to do was survive this battle and destroy a book...and then I would have archived the seemingly impossible.  
  
I stood shakily and stood still until my hands had stopped shaking. I then strode up the stairs back to my place on the wall and continued shouting orders with new enthusiasm and hope. The men seemed to sense it and the feeling of purpose spread like wild fire.  
  
I no longer needed to squint into the distance to see the army of Uruk-hai, because they were so near that I could actually smell their foul stench. The others could too and I could see the fear and determination on their faces. I sighed and took my position on the wall, setting up Mr Bang-Bang and checking everything was in order. As the 'things' drew closer, I could see the cruel jagged ends to their swords and the white hand-prints on their helmets.  
  
"All for one and one for all," I whispered to myself, honouring the tradition Caleb, Ethan and I had started.  
  
I looked about me and saw that many of the men's lips were moving in silent prayers...and I knew it had begun.


	7. The Battle

_Chapter Seven  
_  
The army of Orcs, stopped about a hundred meters from the wall and leered up at us menacingly. I began to wonder what they were planning to do when suddenly, every single one of the uglie bastards began banging their metal armor with their monstrous, festering fists in unison. The thunderous clang of noise filled our ears and I wondered vaguely if Leith could hear it up in heaven. As though someone had been reading my thoughts, a large boom in the distance made me glance up at the dark sky just in time to see the first few raindrops slam onto the cold, mucky stones about me.  
  
"Typical." I muttered, shaking the droplets trickling into my eyes away and adjusting my helmet so that it ran off the sides and left me with a clear view of the disgusting clump of creatures stamping and roaring on the sodden grass. I glanced at the small green glow of the chip in my wrist, signifying I was still alive and kicking...I hoped it would reaming that way for the rest of this momentous battle. I heard Aragorn shouting for the men to hold in the distance and took aim at one of the larger members of the group below, smiling maliciously as I pulled the trigger. The blast of gunfire ripped through the din and I watched at the creature I had been aiming for blinked in surprise before falling heavily to the ground. The moment that followed was one of complete and utter stillness. The kind of stillness you get just before an earthquake or a terrible hurricane.  
  
Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. And then...  
  
"FIRE!!!" Suddenly arrows rained down with the water from the skies and I watched as the creatures below screamed and ran towards us, their vicious swords gleaming with their own slime. I pulled the trigger again and watched with a terrible satisfaction as I watched the Uglie-bastards fall into the mud face first under my fire. I suddenly realized I had hardly any ammo left, so I stashed the gun beneath a large stone (for later) and looked around me for a weapon. I found one soon enough.  
  
I crouched down beside the old man who had an arrow protruding from his frail body and checked his pulse. "Sorry mate." I whispered, closing his glassy eyes with the palm of my hand before sliding his sword from under him and stepping back to the edge of the wall, and submitting myself entirely to the red haze of battle.  
  
It's difficult to describe, that feeling of cold calculation. When you're enveloped in the red haze in slow motion. You can easily spot where to plunge your sword, where the enemy is at it's weakest. You do what you have to do in order to survive. You don't notice the blood that shines black in the moonlight, you don't notice the ice cold rain that reopens the cuts on your face because it simply doesn't matter. You don't care about such trivial things ... all you care about is the killing. I'm not sure how many of the orcs I shoved off the ladders that were leaning against the wall, and I have no idea how many I shoved my newly acquired blade into. All I knew was I was doing what I had to do.  
  
My duty.  
  
Through the pouring rain and the sea of people and orcs, I noticed flashes of the golden hair of the elves, all of whom were scavenging the bodies for more arrows. One elf caught my eye in particular. An elf who was currently fighting hand to hand with one of the largest of the Uruk-hai I had ever had the unfortunate to lay eyes upon ... the Elven captain. "HALDIR!!" I called out, absently slicing an Orc's neck who was unlucky enough to try and stand in front of me. The Large Orc and Haldir fought with swords. Haldir's silver sword almost glowing white light ... and utter contrast to the dull, black hooked sword of his adversary. Even through the din of battle, I heard the Orc laugh when Haldir winced as his arm was cut open by it's crude sword. He was going to die. Oh good Lord ...  
  
I suddenly realized I was just standing there, watching, and I charged towards the Orc, screaming out with fury and loathing as I launched myself at the disgusting creature's back. It screamed as I hacked mercilessly at it with my weapon, watching with grim satisfaction as the disgusting hulk finally stopped struggling. I felt a hand on my shoulder, tightening it's grip when I stopped hacking away and I turned to see Haldir's grim face.  
  
"It is done. I thank you, I owe you my life. I only wish one as young as you did not hold so much hatred in your heart." He said, his face showing gratitude and ... pity?  
  
"So do I." I replied before patting him on the shoulder and turning back to the nightmare before me, throwing myself back into the action. I called out orders, directed men to better positions ... but the orcs just kept coming. There were so many of them, so few of us. I glanced up at the sky only to find it was still pitch black an empty, no traces of dawn any time soon. So much for leaving all the work to Gandalf and the Riders ... shite. "HOW GOES IT ARAGORN?" I bellowed over to the older man, who was currently shoving an orc off from the top of the wall. I followed his gaze and watched it slam to the ground, only to be trampled by it's companions within milliseconds. Aragorn looked up and hesitated before answering,  
  
"NOT WELL!! I FEAR WE SHALL HAVE TO PULL BACK IF THIS PERSISTS!" I swallowed and nodded, wiping away blood and sweat, and collecting a little rainwater in my outstretched hands to splash my face with. I took deep breath before pushing back trough the crowd of men and boys, helping them chop down one of the ladders.  
  
Time was a blur as it passed, and soon enough I heard the orders to retreat to the castle being shouted by King Theoden himself. I yelled his order through the crowd and watched as they hurriedly moved towards the keep ... all except the Elves. They stood at the foot of the wall, hands blurred because they were moving so fast in snatching arrows, placing them in the bow and releasing them. It was quite a sight actually. I watched for a couple more minutes before shaking myself and sprinting to the wooden gates.  
  
"We need time! A distraction!" Theoden was conveying to Aragorn. Aragorn merely nodded and he and Gimli headed for a door. I followed and gasped when I realized it swung out into nothing but an extremely narrow cliff edge...and believe me, when one has already fallen off a cliff less than three days before hand, one is not exactly jumping at the chance to have another go.  
  
"Faith? What're you doing here?" Gimli asked as good naturedly as he could while standing on an uncomfortably small cliff edge.  
  
"I followed you! What're you doing here?" I shot back, gulping when some gravel from beneath my feet shifted slightly.  
  
"We're going to create a distraction. Will you come?" Aragon replied.  
  
"Think I'd leave you to have all the fun?" I replied, a little shakily when Aragorn gestured to the other cliff about two meters from us.  
  
"We must jump there and then climb up the side of the bridge and catch them off guard."  
  
"Toss me." Gimli muttered.  
  
"Pardon?" I asked before Aragorn could get a word out.  
  
"Dwarves are not good at jumping long distances. Aragorn, you'll have to toss me." He grumbled. I stifled a laugh and bit my lip to keep from smiling. "Tell the Elf that Aragorn had to toss me and whether you are a lady or not, I shall ..."  
  
"It's alright Gimli. You have my word." I assured him quickly. If there was one thing I really didn't need, it was an angry dwarf.  
  
"And you have mine also. Come, let us not waste any more time friends." Aragorn said. What ensued was one of the most odd fights of my life. When we were all finally up on the bridge, it was Aragorn, Gimli and I fighting and taunting twelve Orcs, just to keep them busy before the cavalry arrived ... it sounds a lot easier than it is. Once again I was thrust into battle, and I was once more covered in stinking, foul Orc blood. The stones around us were stained with their thick, unnatural blood and somehow I knew that it would never be washed off. Nothing and horrid could ever be removed entirely. Far off in the distance, I heard the booming sounds of a horn far though it was steadily growing louder. When I was sure the last Orc on the bridge was dead, I let my smile begin to grow and I ran all the way from the bridge through the main Keep and back to the wall. I watched in a mixture of awe and relief as a single white horse emerged from behind the cliffs.  
  
"Cavalry's here." I murmured as Gandalf and his mythical horse galloped down towards the Army of Isenguard, followed by hundreds of horsemen, each armed with spears and newly revived hope. They broke through the dark, disgusting ocean of creatures and the men around me cheered as they slew the Orcs in droves. I was so entranced by the sight that had been recited to me in legends since I was a tiny baby, I didn't notice the scrawny Orc who had scrambled up the wall and was crouched down amidst the rocks behind me.  
  
"Take that you slimy..." I began before gasping.  
  
Oh. Shite.  
  
Something was in my back. Something pointy and sharp and...oh Hell...painful. I swallowed hard and blinked a couple of times, wondering why the battle had suddenly become so terribly silent. I dropped to my knees and through the waves of agony that assaulted me, I could see Aragorn's horrified face sprinting towards me. He caught me before my head cracked to the ground and I could see his lips forming words above my face ... if only I could hear them ... maybe if I tried hard enough ...  
  
"Faith! Faith can you hear me!? You have an arrow in your back, though it's not poisoned, you will survive! Can you hear me! You must keep awake! Please! Faith!" He shouted, his dark eyes desperate and worried.  
  
"That's Captain Faith to you ..." I managed to gasp. Aragorn smiled weakly but it quickly disappeared when I coughed and tasted the all too familiar taste of blood on my tongue. "You ... you have to destroy ... Saruman's book ... you ..."  
  
"No!! Faith!" I glanced down at the chip in my wrist and was alarmed to see it was no longer green, but was a dark red colour. Dark red meant ... no pulse.  
  
Ok ... that can't be good.  
  
And then ... I was numb and the world turned to black.


	8. The Marshes

_Chapter Eight _

"Faith?"  
  
"What?! Make it quick, we have to move out in a couple minutes!"  
  
"I just wanted to say ... in case we don't see each other again ... I think ... I think I'm in love with you." Leith yelled over the sound of gunfire. I snapped my head around to look at him,  
  
"I think I love you too ... even though you have the worst sense of timing on this _planet_," I replied, rolling my eyes, "I can't believe you waited 'till we were just about go over the top of the trenches to tell my this! I mean, are you _completely_ mad? Now if one of us dies or ... mmph ..."  
  
I think he only kissed me to shut me up ... but I didn't really mind.  
  
"Bugger off Leith – Delos and I would like to be able to teach Gracie how to play poker without you helping her cheat." I laughed, shoving him away from my cards. Leith held a hand to his heart, looking as innocent as he possibly could ... and that wasn't very.  
  
"I'm wounded you would think such a thing of me Faith. I really am," he said sincerely. Well. Almost. The part when he burst into laughter really ruined the effect. And of course, that sent me into giggles. Really, it wasn't at all professional to be giggling in a tent playing poker and smoking when I was supposed to be outside checking everyone had their lights out ... then again, why shouldn't I have _one_ night off?  
  
"Aww, come on Faith! I can't play poker, you know my ears go bright red when I lie! Leith was giving me a few pointers, that's all!" Grace whined, grinning herself. Only Delos was the one able to keep a straight face. He just sat there, his grey eyes bored and disdainful ... And so, naturally, the rest of us had to attack him and pin him to the floor so Grace could tickle him because it was amusing to hear his spluttered insults through the girlish giggles.  
  
"Hey baby. How're you feeling?" Leith asked, pulling off his boots and climbing in the tiny single bed beside me.  
  
"Considering we're on a boat in the middle of the bloody ocean and I'm still recovering from a bout of pneumonia ... pretty good actually," I replied weakly. Leith tightened his hold on me as though I would disappear any moment.  
  
"You gave me one hell of a scare," he muttered, resting his chin on the top of my head.  
  
"Sorry about that," I said, half serious.  
  
"No problem. Just make sure you don't do it again 'K?"  
  
"'K. I'll ask next time before I contract a deadly virus." I replied flatly.  
  
"Good. I love you, you bad-tempered, loud cow," He whispered.  
  
"Love you too, you nancy-boy, idiotic arse," I replied. I felt Leith smile into my hair and allowed a smile of my own when I felt his breathing even out and heard the familiar soft snore that signified he was well and truly asleep.  
  
"LEITH! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU PLAYING AT BACK THERE?!" I screamed, shoving him hard. Leith blinked up at me owlishly, looking utterly confused. Bastard.  
  
"What did I do?" He asked, climbing to his feet and brushing his long hair from his face.  
  
"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! I GAVE YOU A DIRECT ORDER TO LEAVE THE PREMISES AND REJOIN THE GROUP AND INSTEAD YOU RISK YOUR LIFE TO SAVE A STUPID MEDIC!" I yelled, getting angrier by the minute.   
  
"STUPID MEDIC?! DO YOU HAVE ANY FEELINGS AT ALL?! THAT GUY SAVED COUNTLESS LIVES WITH HIS SKILLS! I COULDN'T JUST LEAVE HIM THERE TO ROT!" Leith yelled back ... of course, that gave me quite a shock. Leith never yelled. He jet watched me blow off steam and then raise and eyebrow and make me feel like a bitch before kissing me. That was just how things went. He wasn't meant to yell back ...  
  
Now, you must understand. I don't like surprises when it comes to emotional situations. Not at all. I tend to react badly and end up making an utter pansy of myself. This was one of those occasions.  
  
"BETTER HIM THAN YOU! DON'T YOU GET IT? YOU COULD HAVE DIED! IF YOU DIED I...I CAN'T LOSE ANYONE ELSE LEITH! I JUST FUCKING CAN'T!" I shouted back, my voice cracking on the last word ... and then I was crying. Blubbering like I hadn't done since the day Caleb had died. I felt myself falling towards the floor but suddenly arms were wrapped tightly around my waist and a voice was whispering persistently in my ear.  
  
"I'm so sorry ... I'm sorry Faith, I didn't think ... I just got mad and ... I love you ..." He mumbled, crying as well. Eventually, the tears stopped and we just stood in the middle of the castle, clinging to each other like lost children. We shared our last kiss just before we heard the Follower's of Isenguard marching towards us ... but it was the most peaceful moment of my entire life.  
  
I was cold. Colder than I had ever been.  
  
"Bollocks.." I muttered, my eyes opening slowly as I forced myself to sit up.  
  
Death. Death was everywhere. A whole field of bodies lay as far as the eye could see, so densely spread that I couldn't even see a single patch of the muddy ground I stood on. I tried to scream but it felt as though I was underwater. Wait ... I was underwater. Cold, mucky water ... but I was breathing. Or was I? Come to think of it, no. I wasn't.  
  
So was I dead?  
  
Yes, it would appear that way. Then was I in hell? Something told me I was not. Something told me this was the in-between place. A place where nobody could rest unless they were taken into the realms of the dead, or accepted back into the realms of the living. Something told me none of these men would ever be accepted into either. Men, Elves and Orcs dressed in battle clothes ... all lying, staring blankly above them. I looked up too, seeing the margin where the water around me met the sky ... but I couldn't get up that high. I needed a ladder ... something to pull me up back into the Land of the Living.  
  
SPLASH.  
  
A face. A beautiful, sad small face with big blue eyes was being pulled down into the water by a ring around his neck. I reached out my hand, wanting to pull the ring, wanting to pull it down to me at the bottom of the strange marshy water. The other creatures rose and reached up as well, and we were all calling to the ring, knowing we would kill the small creature that carried it but not caring ... Frodo was his name?  
  
NO!  
  
"GO BACK FRODO! GO BACK!!" I screamed, waving my hands to bring him back to his senses. It was no use ... he was dying. Drowning in the marshes ... hands. Different hands from the air above the water reached in and pulled Frodo out, and suddenly the other soldiers around me roared in anger, furious at their prize being taken away from them. They had died here. Died in the marshes of Mordor fighting the battle that decided the fate of Middle Earth. The fate of the world.  
  
I felt myself being tugged somewhere else, and I let myself submit to it ...  
  
I was warm. That was the first thing I noticed. I was warm and dry...and nothing hurt anymore. My aching muscles, my bloody gashes...all gone. I was safe. Protected for the first time in far too long. I stood and looked about me, only, there was nothing to look at. There were no real objects, only beautiful colours and smiling faces. Familiar faces.

Grace ... Caleb ... Ethan ... Delos ... Mum ... Dad ... Leith. They were all around me, all laughing and talking, all glowing and shimmering like the ocean does on a sunny day. I tried to speak but found I didn't want to. I was happy. Truly happy. I didn't know how I had got to this wonderful place and I didn't care either ... a voice cut rang out from all wound me, a voice with all the strength and beauty of a great church bell, ringing in the early morning light.  
  
"Faith, Daughter of Light. Choose your fate. You may stay here or you may go back and complete the mission I have set for you ... it is your choice. The deeds of man are terrible, but I shall not force you to right the wrongs that have been committed. Choose now, and know you may never choose again." It said, though not in English. In a language too ancient for any creature of any world to speak ... but I could understand it somehow. I had a choice to make. I could go back and complete my mission or I could stay here in this wonderful place, never bothered by the troubles of earth again. Why should I fight any more than I have? I have already saved countless lives in Rohan ... why should I do more?  
  
I looked upon the smiling faces of all my loved ones who were floating about me and looked into the eyes of Leith. He was speaking to me, but I could barely hear him over the noise of all the others ... I concentrated on his lips and realized he was saying only five words ...  
  
"I love you. Live. Fight."  
  
I shook my head, reaching towards him. Leith smiled, tears pouring down his cheeks as he took my hands in his. He leant in and kissed me gently...I recognized it's significance instantly. He was kissing me goodbye. Then I was being hugged by all my friends and family about me and I returned their embraces, telling them all how much I loved them all and trying to make the moment last forever.  
  
At last, I nodded, grim determination gripping my stomach,  
  
"Send me back." I shouted, reaching out towards everyone I held dear in a vain attempt to take them back with me...and then I felt a painful tug in my whole body and I was crashing downwards, hurtling through the air and screaming at the top of my lungs...white hot pain shot through me and something forced me to open my mouth and gasp for air...  
  
The chip in my wrist glowed green.  
  
I opened my eyes to find Aragorn staring at me with utter desperation and confusion in his eyes. Then I was being hugged. Very tightly I may add.  
  
"Woah ... who died?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.


	9. On to Isenguard

_Chapter Nine _

Nine days after the battle, we were on the road ... again. We rode day and night, heading for Isenguard, following the obvious signs leading towards the White Hand of Saruman. After I 'woke up' Aragorn had refused to let me stand and carried me back to the keep. He was insisted that I would patched up by Eowyn and Eowyn thankfully did not think it was necessary for me to take my shirt off (though I'm sure she would've changed my mind, had I been Aragorn) … that situation could have got very messy, very quickly. While she was patching me up, she happened to notice that I was staring rather appreciatively at a handsome _male_ backside (I'm injured, not dead … anymore) as he bent over to pass me my gun. When I realized what I was doing, I snapped my gaze to away and back towards her.  
  
"I ... I … Please don't say anything." I stuttered. Well, what was I supposed to say? 'I'm not gay, I'm a girl!'.  
  
"About what?" Eowyn asked, turned an interesting shade of magenta before continuing her work, studiously avoiding my eyes. To be honest, I think she was more disappointed than shocked.  
  
'Captain Faith. A hero, a warrior ... and a poof.'  
  
Heh.  
  
I was supposed to stay behind with the wounded, the women and the children while the others headed out for Isenguard to face Saruman ... but I wasn't having any of it. I dragged myself up and Spirit was waiting for me just outside Fangorn forest. I never thought I'd see the day when I was happy to see a horse.  
  
Gandalf and I spoke in hushed tones by the fire that night as I explained that I had to get Saruman's Book of Power and destroy it, for the sake of my people. I didn't elaborate. He didn't ask.

The company had ate in a heavy silence that night, King Theoden and the Horse Lords mourning for the losses of their people. The amount casualties was far too large for me to be able to get a good night's sleep ... but I consoled myself with the thought that it would have been worse if we hadn't have damned up the drain.  
  
When he had finished, Gandalf quietly passed me a large leather bound book written in a language I couldn't read and I dutifully shoved it into my backpack. He told me it was the Book of the Living Dead, a book filled with the experiences of those who had passed through the Veil and returned, like I had.  
  
It was strange to be back in the world after everything I had seen. I could remember every single little detail, though most of it didn't make sense. I felt as though my life was like a glove that doesn't fit. It's hard to explain but I'll give it my best shot:  
  
It was like everything that I had thought beautiful before, now looked dull and ordinary. 2D, almost. Everything was flat and the colours of the world were not even close to as bright and _real_ as those I saw in The Other Place. That's what I've taken to calling it. I don't think it was heaven, because someone who's taken as many lives as I have wouldn't be allowed in. But it wasn't hell either, I was far too happy and content there. No, I think that The Other Place is a place older than I could possibly imagine. Older than Old Middle-Earth. Older than the Elves ... now any other place would pale in comparison. It was rather depressing actually.  
  
Now any other person who'd been through what I had been through would probably spend the rest of their days thinking about my experience, researching and philosophising on God, Eru … or whatever.  
  
But I'm not any other person.  
  
I'm soldier, and a damn good one if I do say so myself. The only way to be a good soldier and stay sane is to ... how could I put it ... is to file away your memories. You learn to just take everything you've seen in the lest few days, shove it in a closet at the back of your brain and put a lock on it until there's a time to think properly.  
  
Well, that's what I did. I forced myself to forget everything about The Other Place … everything. I forced myself to file away memory of Leith, telling myself I had to move on. I had to carry on living, creating a new life for myself … and he was no longer a part of that life.  
  
"Where do you want to go when this is over and done with, Faith?" Gimli asked, startling me out of thoughts.  
  
"What? Sorry I wasn't paying much attention." I said, wincing slightly when Spirit stumbled, jarring me. 'Note to Self: Must talk with someone about a getting a proper saddle with actual padding. My behind can't take much more of this.' I thought, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"If we survive all this, where to you wish to go? I wish to go back to the caverns of Helm's Deep to truly enjoy their splendour." He said, his eyes shining with delight at the very thought. "The Elf wishes to go back and look at some trees." He added, looking disdainful. Legolas merely rolled his eyes. Bet you never knew Elves rolled their eyes. They do it quite a lot actually. It's rather annoying.  
  
"I ... to be honest I'm not sure where I'll go. I have no home or family so ... I suppose I would wander about for a few years." I murmured, the innocent question catching me off guard. I hadn't thought of what I would do if I survived all this.  
  
Would I be sent forwards in time, back to my own time? Or would I live out the rest of my life here in Old Middle Earth? Where would I go? The questions spun about my head until I was dizzy, but I knew that no amount of guesswork could fathom what would actually happen. This was all getting to be a bit much. "I ... I'm going to ride ahead to check out the territory, if that's alright with you King Theoden!" I called ahead, my voice wavering ever so slightly. I cursed myself mentally for the slip, swallowing down the nervous lump in my throat.  
  
"Of course," Theoden called back before continuing his conversation with Gandalf and Aragorn. Good, nobody noticed my slip up then. I nodded thanks and kicked into Spirit's sides, enjoying the feeling of the cool wind caressing my the open cuts on my face and drying out some of the un identifiable gunk in my hair. Soon, I was about half a mile in front, rejoicing at the feeling that I could breathe. I barely even noticed when another horse levelled with us.  
  
I glanced over and started when I saw who it was. Haldir. He was safe. I felt oddly relieved at the revelation and one of the many knots in my stomach disappeared. His face and hair was as clean and beautiful as always, though his clothes were just as tattered and bloody as mine. I expected him to say something, but instead he just continued to urge his horse on, the wind whipping his hair from his face. So, I followed his suit and stared ahead, enjoying our silent companionship.  
  
Eventually, I felt Spirit tiring beneath me and I pulled on the reins gently, letting the poor horse walk for a little and Haldir did the same.  
  
I looked back, realizing the company that I had left Helm's Deep with were now tiny spots on the horizon. Let me tell you, horses are pretty damn fast when they feel like it. It would take about half a day before they could reach us.  
  
"I owe you my life ... I am centuries older than you, perhaps even a millennia. So why is it, that you are so much wiser than I?" Haldir said, still not looking at me. I blinked owlishly.  
  
"Pardon?" I asked, not sure what he was getting at … if he was getting at anything at all. Elves are like that. They just make a random statement and then move on. I think it's a rule in the Elven Handbook. I can see it now: Rule 3056- Confuse weak and petty humans by making deep and insightful statements and then completely changing the subject before they can make sense of it.  
  
"Your eyes … they hold such powerful knowledge and wisdom. I find it almost disturbing in one as young as you. You are like a child to me." He said thoughtfully. It wasn't intended as an insult, but I find that when in doubt, go for the defensive.  
  
"I'm not a child. I lost that privilege the first time I took another person's life." I snapped, keeping my eyes set on the road before us. There was a short, tense silence before Haldir spoke again.  
  
"You were young? When you lost your innocence?" He asked, his voice so low I could barely hear him over the clumping of the horses feet on the thick sodden grass.  
  
"Thirteen, and not a day older." I said, my voice just as low. "And you?" I added, finally lifting my eyes to his face.  
  
"I was two hundred and four ... about the equivalent of age sixteen of our years." He said, meeting my gaze for the first time … and then I saw it. The Look. The look nobody could possibly understand unless they'd been in the same situation. That odd balance of guilt and acceptance.  
  
"You didn't want to kill," I stated flatly.  
  
"But I had to," Haldir said, nodding. I gave him a small, weary smile which he returned almost instantly. "You owe me a fight, Captain Faith." He said, his tone lighter and full of feigned arrogance and bravado … well, most of it was feigned anyway.  
  
"So keen to be beaten, Captain Haldir?" I retorted, unable to keep a grin off my face.  
  
"Pride always comes before a fall," Haldir said, raising an eyebrow. The Eyebrow Raise. Yet another 'Elf Thing'. I should write a book. Seriously.  
  
"You'd do well to remember that one," I laughed. It was weird really, we hardly knew each other but we felt as though we had known each other for years. The bond of soldiers. I'm sure I've mentioned it before. It was ... well, for lack of a better word ... it was nice. Just like two mates engaged in a friendly banter in a world where there was no pain, or suffering. No wars or hunger. Just the two of us.  
  
Yeah, it was defiantly ni … oh no. Oh bloody NO! "BAD HORSE! BAD HORSE!" I yelled as Spirit chose this particular moment to take a running leap over an alarmingly wide stream. I shut my eyes and leaned forwards, wrapping my arms around Spirit's neck as we soared through the air ... and then ... THUMP. Back onto the ground and dear God, my arse was suddenly in unbelievable pain.  
  
I turned and glared indignantly at Haldir, who was trying very hard not to laugh. "Not one word, or I'll kill you with my bare hands, Elf." I growled.  
  
"You have my word of honour," He forced out, the corners of his lips twitching perilously. Bastard.  
  
"I'm in serious pain here," I said, meaning to sound threatening but ending up sounding rather pathetic. Haldir's smile disappeared and he frowned, his sharp eyes scanning my body for wounds.  
  
"No. I mean ..." I shifted again, wincing ... and the infuriating almost-smile was back.  
  
"That's because you are not riding her properly. Your kind have not learned to become one with the horse. That is why you are in pain," He said condescendingly. I narrowed my eyes,  
  
"Well show my how to ride, Oh Mighty Elf," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Haldir smirked, and gracefully jumped down from his grey horse.

Bloody Elves.  
  
"I shall, fair lady," He said, reaching up to lift me down off the horse like a pathetic medieval maiden in a frock.  
  
Two words: As. If.  
  
I rolled my eyes and gingerly climbed down, pointedly ignoring his open arms and stumbling slightly when I hit the ground. He steadied me and let me rest my weight on his shoulder until I regained my bearings. Riding can do that to you. I noticed he was about half a head taller than me, because I found myself staring at his lips. Oops. "So ... how am I supposed to ride?" I asked, a little too loudly.  
  
"You are riding the horse as though it is the servant. You should ride him like he is giving you a gift," He explained slowly, as though talking to a two year old.  
  
"Alright ... and how do I do _that_?" I asked, confused. Haldir gave me a tolerant smile (which I chose to ignore) and gestured to Spirit.  
  
"He allows you to travel on her back for days and receives nothing in return. You must treat him with respect and he will treat you with the same," He said, running his fingers along Spirit's smooth coat.  
  
"I ... I'll try," I whispered, following his movement. Haldir glanced down and his sharp features seeming to soften. Uh oh.  
  
"You are truly extraordinary," He breathed, focusing his intense gaze the cuts and grazes on my face. My breath caught in my throat when his stare travelled down until it reached my shoulder that was wrapped in bandages. "I wish I had been there to stop this," He added, touching the wound with his cool, gentle fingers. I watched, entranced by his movements and then I found myself tilting my head to the side and ...  
  
"Captain Faith! Are you alright!?" A voice shouted from far away, startling us both. Haldir drew his hand back sharply and I practically leapt about three feet backwards. When I finally found my voice and turned,  
  
"Yes! I'm fine!" I shouted back, glad Eowyn wasn't allowed to join us or there would be whole hell of a lot of blushing and stammering.  
  
"We should go and rejoin the others." Haldir said, looking more uncomfortable than I had ever thought possible. I nodded mutely and turned to mount Spirit. I hissed in pain when I tried to get back on him and immediately, Haldir was at my side, lifting me easily up onto the horse and slipping my feet into the stirrups. I looked down, astonished. To be fair, he looked even more shocked than I did. He was staring at his hands as though they had betrayed him.  
  
"Thank you," I said awkwardly. Haldir bowed his head a little and easily slid up onto his horse. He didn't have a saddle at all. We looked at each other for another moment before turning and riding back towards the group.  
  
I spent the rest of the night thinking about what almost happened. I felt guilty. Guilty that I had almost kissed someone who wasn't Leith. But at the same time, I felt a sort of calm. Peace. Someone could understand. Someone cared.  
  
Of course Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli cared. They had become friends. But as much as they cared, each one were willing to sacrifice me in order to destroy the One Ring. And I respect that. I feel the same way about them ... but with Haldir ... I feel as though I may truly be missed. That I may be mourned for and remembered not as Captain Faith, the brave and noble hero. But just as me. Faith. The girl who doesn't take any crap, has a warped sense of humour and a terrible sense of balance.  
  
And then I suddenly realized what it was that made me feel as though maybe I did belong in this world, rather than the next.  
  
When my mission was complete … I had a reason to stay.


	10. Losing Balance

_Chapter Ten_

That night, we camped out next to a riverbed that had run dry. Saruman's doing, of course. Needless to say, I was liking the bastard less and less every waking moment. Couldn't wait to introduce him to a pair of friends of mine. Mr. Utility Knife and Mr. Bang Bang.  
  
On Gandalf's advise I tried to get some shut-eye with the others, but after an hour of tossing and turning I opted for guard duty. So, I climbed the nearest tree and nestled myself in it's upper branches, looking out into the inky blackness ahead.  
  
It was an unsettling sight.  
  
I wasn't used to this sort of stillness. No blinking flashes of gunfire in the distance. No dull roar and high pitched whistles of bombs being dropped so far away it looks like a fireworks display. Nothing. Just darkness. It freaked me out.  
  
At the edges of my mind, I noted a faint sort of fluttering sound, like a moth too close to your ear. Then in got louder. And louder. Until a deep thrum was booming overhead and we were suddenly plunged in complete darkness. The faint light from the moon and stars struggled to be seen, but was almost completely smothered by the black cloud. I heard the shouts of the watchmen on the ground far below me.  
  
"Stay where you are! Draw no weapons! Wait and it will pass you by!" Gandalf shouted to the men when I heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. I frowned and stood up, pulling myself to the very top of the tree so I could see exactly what was happening. And let me say this right now:-  
  
Big, bad mistake.  
  
The moment I stuck my head up I knew something was terribly wrong.  
  
"Bugger!" I yelled when I felt leathery black birds started dive bombing for me, smacking me with their wings and pecking me with their hook-like beaks. Purely on instinct I lifted my hands to defend myself, thus causing me to lose my balance. Well, you can guess what happened next.  
  
"FAITH!! NO!!"  
  
CRASH. SMACK. BANG. CRASH. SNAP. THUD.  
  
"Ow," I muttered, gasping to get my breath back. The world was spotty but I could just make out the shape of Haldir's face above mine, his features twisted with smothered worry. Because Elves never worry. They are politely concerned, but never worried.  
  
"Captain Faith … can you hear me?" He was asking, his voice calm and clear.  
  
"Faith? Faith can you move?" Gandalf asked, kneeling next to me. I wanted to tell him to stand up so he wouldn't get grass stains on his nice white robes, but I was still too winded. But not hurt, I noted. Not hurt at all.  
  
Odd.  
  
"I'm ... alright." I coughed, pushing Haldir to the side so I could sit up. I looked around me, amused by the various reactions of the others. Aragorn was staring at Haldir suspiciously, Legolas was staring at Aragorn wonder why he was staring at Haldir, and Gimli was staring at the tree. I think he blamed it for my little mishap, and was wondering how quickly he could chop it down with his axe.  
  
"No man could have survived a fall like that," Someone I didn't know muttered. There were murmur's of agreement throughout the group and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. So, I simply came out with,  
  
"The stars must have smiled on me,"  
  
The rest of the night was pretty run of the mill, though nobody could sleep after our frightening encounter with the birds. Most of the men talked quietly about the future, or about Isenguard. Some talked of me. I listened in on many of the conversations, feigning sleep.  
  
"It is not the natural order of things. No man survives a fall like that, no matter how fate favours him," One man whispered, glancing fearfully at the mountains where the crow-things had flown.  
  
"Yes, but maybe Captain Faith is not a man," One said. My eyes widened and I held my breath, my teeth biting into my lip. Had they guessed? "Maybe he has Elf blood in him. He holds a wisdom that no one as young as he looks holds. He has delicate features and is as tall as any Elf," He continued. I let out my breath in a whoosh. False alarm.  
  
"No, look how he is with the horses. He is no Elf," Another man argued. As one could imagine, I had to fight the urge to stand up and prove to him that even though I'm not great with horses, I'm pretty damn good with my fists.  
  
"What I want to know is where he came from. Appearing out of nowhere in strange attire and even stranger weapons. And word has it that he looks at men the way a man should look at a woman," Oops. Damn hormones. I'm a fifteen year old girl, what do you expect!?  
  
"Nay, you must not accuse a brave and noble warrior of such filth if you hold no proof!" I raised an eyebrow and decided that if I was going to stay in Old Middle-Earth, I would have to start giving some social awareness lessons. Homophobe alert anyone? Filth, indeed.   
  
"I agree with Eomer. You must not say these wicked things with nothing but your own suspicions. The man saved us in a time of war, asking for nothing in return. The peoples of Rohan owe him their lives."  
  
The conversation at that point and they turned to the politics of Gondor. As interesting as that may sound, it was utterly snore-worthy. And so, I slept.  
  
When I awoke, it was still dark. Not pitch black dark, but a navy – coloured -dark, which meant sunrise was imminent. The group were mostly asleep, though a good few were up and about, taking care of their horses or sharpening their swords. Altogether though, it was a rather uncomfortable atmosphere. Uncertainty had manifested itself into every man's heart, burrowing itself deep inside so that nobody could get a moment's peace. Not real peace.  
  
There may be no rest for the wicked, but there was certainly no more for the good.  
  
Good and Evil. Light and Darkness. Purity and Corruption.  
  
Opposites that could not exist without one another. Without the light, we would be cold and alone, with nothing but destruction to fill the need in our souls. Without the darkness, we would be blinded by a light no being could possibly understand. There would be no real point to carry on. No drive. No cause to believe in or stand up for.  
  
"We must move before first light!" Someone shouted, shoving me from my brooding and back into the real world. Well, I hoped it was real anyway. Then everyone was up and moving, packing up their horses and whatnot.  
  
"It shall not be long before we reach the gates of Isenguard. We are close," Gandalf said to Theoden, glancing at me as he said so.  
  
"Whoop – de – bloody – do." I muttered, hauling my backpack up onto Spirit. The tales I could tell you about what that bloody backpack and I have been through. I swear, if I had a penny for every time I had to sew the damn thing up with shoelaces or hair-ties I'd be a millionaire.  
  
Because I had already packed the night before, I really had nothing to do. So, I took out the book Gandalf had given me, settled myself a little bit away for the others, and looked through it. I had managed to work out that the text was the very same as the ancient texts you could go and see in the London Museum of Old Middle-Earth -- but I still couldn't read it.  
  
As I stared at it, it felt as though the world had slowed down to accommodate me. As though the very trees had stopped growing so I could have more time to read. Weird? Definitely. Real? Maybe.  
  
I stared hard at the text, my nose barely an inch away from the surface of the rough parchment. The symbols were flying around my head at a dizzying pace, desperately trying to get me to understand their meaning. Trying to teach me. And then, I'm not sure how to describe this -- I clicked. Ding! This light lit up all these part of my mind that I had never even known existed. A part of my mind that was still tuned to the Old ways. The traditions, the ceremonies, the languages. It was all there for the taking. All I had to do was sit down and allow it to open up.  
  
The text seemed to pulse with energy as my eyes scanned the surface with a furious pace, trying to read it all before I forgot how to read it.  
  
Hey, you never know.  
  
The book was like a compendium of the experiences of people who had been 'To the Other Side'. And let me tell you, there weren't very many.  
  
Four people. That was it.  
  
Four people who had gone there and come back to tell the tale. And you want to know something else? None of their stories were even remotely the same. The only thing that linked their stories (and mine) was one recurring factor. The Voice. The Voice of whatever had been Up There. That Voice had spoken to all of us, effected all of us.  
  
I wanted to read all of it but something told me there would be time for it later, so I snapped the book shut decisively. The moment the pages touched one another, the world set back to real time, and I looked up in shock when the peaceful calm I had been settled into was shattered.  
  
I sat up and I ran a hand through my hair and was disgusted to find it was stiff as a board with a foul substance that I preferred not to think about. "Aragorn!" I said, jogging up to him.  
  
"Yes?" He said, snapping his gaze up at me and letting go of the angel pendant on his necklace that he had been staring intently at.  
  
"I was wondering if you knew how to get this out of my hair. I dread to think what it must be doing to me," I said, grimacing as I scraped a handful of gooey stuff from my roots. Aragorn's lips twitched perilously. "Laugh and on my honour, I shall sew your lips together with your own hair," I growled, not in the mood for being made fun of. Then again, I'm not often in that sort of mood, if ever.  
  
"Here. Rub one palm full of this into your scalp. It's an old Elven mixture," He said, reaching into his pack and throwing me a bottle of -- something.  
  
"Thank you," I said sincerely, pouring out some of the pearly white substance from the beautiful little glass bottle into my hand. I did as directed, rubbing it into my hair before I could think better of it.  
  
Heaven. No wonder the bloody Elves have that whole 'shining hair' thing going on.  
  
It felt silky and fresh and it smelled of lilies and limes. It felt like a tiny little slice of the Old Days. The days of shopping malls, movies and ice cream. The days of showers and beds. The days that had died off with every man woman and child that fell to the ground.  
  
I often think of the Old Days. I remember that sometimes, when you were waiting for your favourite program to start, you used to flick the channels around. You may stop on a news station for a minute, your eyes flicking across the screen as you watched the reporters dispassionately reading out their papers. They tell you eighteen people have died in this explosion, fourty people injured in that attack, nine children killed in friendly fire yesterday -- blah blah blah. You feel the faintest bit of sorrow for the poor sods, get bored and switch back to your program, the idea that your fellow man is suffering quickly replaced by the latest plot of your program. When you buy your newspaper, you flick to the cinema section, or maybe the sports pages. You don't even blink at the news on the front page, that however-many people have been murdered in Congo or Sierra-Leone or the East-lands.  
  
Because it's not your problem.  
  
Those people dying are not your brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. They're faceless victims that mean nothing to you. They're just people who probably had it coming. None of it concerns you, you need to get a pass on your Algebra test.  
  
That is, until it's _you _who's the one getting shot at.  
  
Until it's _your_ best friend who's leg was blown off in an air raid.  
  
Until it's _you_ who is responsible for a hundred other people who are just as scared shitless as you are.  
  
You don't want to die. You don't want to fight. But you don't get a fucking choice. It's 'Here's a gun, point it at the bad guy and pull the trigger. If you miss, you'll probably end up dead. Good luck.'  
  
Suddenly, those computer games where you have to shoot everyone are a terrifying reality. Suddenly, everything is far too loud, far too real. Before you can blink you find yourself staring at some nameless dead bastard that died at the end of your gun ... and you don't feel one bit sorry for him. You're glad. Glad because it was that bastard who killed your best friend. That bastard who shot at _you_. There's no honour in the kill. None. You're just getting one up on the bad guys. You're trying not to get shot.  
  
War is not an art form. Survivors aren't skilled warriors, or well trained honourable soldiers.  
  
They're just really fucking lucky.  
  
"That feels better. What is it?" I asked Aragorn, forcing myself to concentrate on the present.  
  
"Old remedy. The Lady Arwen gave it to me," Aragorn said. He blinked, seeming to realize the implication of his words and he looked up sharply. I smiled and plopped down next to him, putting my hands on the grass behind me and leaning back so my face was tilted towards the forest roof. It was beautiful.  
  
"I cared for someone very much, once. I learnt you cannot control who your heart longs for. All you can do is cherish that love, and hope for the best. If things are meant to work out, they shall," I said, standing and walking away. I'd leave him to stew for a bit.  
  
Right now though, I had to see and Elf about a horse.


	11. The Rage of Saruman

_Chapter Eleven _

When I was very young, I believed in angles. You know, the kind with startlingly white feathered wings and aura's of warm gold. The kind that will watch over you and keep you safe from harm, no matter where you are or what you've done. Sometimes, when I was on the battle field, I would wish I could go back to that state of mind and have that kind of blind faith again. But as time went by, the faith dissolved away with the blood I washed off my hands every night.

I can pinpoint the exact moment when I entirely gave up my childhood love for angels. It was a routine crash and smash. We had to enter the building, download the files on the Kluck computer system, steal anything worth having and leave. I was assigned to be the one who downloaded the files while the others secured the building and nicked weapons off any of the dead guards. I had popped the disk into the tower, trained to get in and get out within minutes. I watched as the figures flickered past the screen as they were downloaded onto the disk, though my eyes couldn't focus on anything in particular. When the job was done, I did as instructed and after I removed the disk, I shot the computer and left with my team.

Arriving at head quarters I handed the disk over to the computer geeks like a good little soldier, and I was allowed to wait in the our computer filing room while the new information was sifted through…it was there that I saw The File. It contained all the names, ranks and ID numbers of all the soldiers who died. See, the chip in our wrists weren't just to make it easy to check for survivors. After your pulse stopped, the chip sent out a signal to the main computer and the data in the chip was stored, so that The Free Countries Alliance would have exact figures on the number of people still around. I looked around, making sure nobody was paying any attention to me, and I sat down in trepidation. My hands shook as I typed in the names of anyone who had meant something to me, waiting to see whether they were alive or dead. The search took a couple of minutes, and those minutes were the longest in my entire life. The agony of waiting soon melted into the agony of knowing what I had dreaded for so long. My family were dead.

I left the computer numb and empty. It was as though someone had destroyed the little part of me that still believed things might go back to normal—one day.

My soul was screaming.

A technician glanced up at me with a disdainful sneer and said, "Fucking grunt. You guys think you're so tough out there, fighting the good fight. We all know it though. The Free Countries are screwed." He turned away and continued his work as I stumbled away, my head reeling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small silver medallion with an angel onto it's surface with the word "Hope" inscribed on the back in capital letters. I glanced back at the computer room and decidedly threw the angel into the mud, striding away without looking back.

When I got sick on the ship to England, Leith had prayed. I heard him through his tears, mumbling quiet prayers and promises at my bedside – begging a Being I didn't believe in to spare me. Afterwards, I asked him why. He told me it was because he believed that there was a grand scheme of things. That everything we did was for a greater purpose, and that he thought I was destined for more than to die on some ratty old ship. Destiny. A greater good.

The day we rode into Isenguard, I longed to hear him say those words again. I felt strange and unsettled, my hands clammy and my skin pale from the very moment we rode through the flooded gates. I hid it as best I could, laughing with the others when we met Merry and Pippin at the gate. I was introduced to them by Aragorn … nothing was mentioned of my real gender. I honestly think it was for the best. The Ents were amazing, if not a little intimidating with their huge booming voices and gnarled branches. I settled myself on a rock, my thoughts drifting as Merry and Pippin talked excitedly with the rest.

My eyes drifted aimlessly across the surface of the stagnant water on the ground, absently wondering what lay beneath. I could make out the shapes of several jagged swords, some supplies, and I'm sure I even spotted a coin or two, glinting in the sunlight. Whether it was the sun, or the lack of sleep I had been getting I'm not sure, but I suddenly felt exhausted. My eye lids heavy and my movements much clumsier than usual. Haldir noticed, of course.

"You need sleep." He commented wryly, though his eyes were filled with concern. I waved him off, shaking my head and muttering disjointed sentences about 'Fuckin' Elves think everyone's tired and inferior'. He was Not Very Impressed At All. "Confounding, stubborn creature! Do you always refuse to listen to reason?" He snapped, frowning at me.

"No, not always." I replied irritably, turning so my back was facing him. I heard a sharp sigh and nothing more. Which, in itself, was extremely annoying. You can never quite be sure whether an Elf has buggered off or not, because they tend to walk silently. I eventually looked back and was relieved to find he had gone.

Stifling a yawn, I shook myself and snuck away from the group, wading through the chest deep, freezing water silently until I reached the entrance to the tower. I hesitated, wondering what I should do. I knew Saruman's Book of Power must be hidden inside, but the trouble was: How to find it?

The place was obviously massive, and most of the great, heavy stone doors were locked. So. I knew it would be like finding a needle in the largest bloody haystack known to mankind. Normally, I would have given up at the mere prospect (because if you haven't realised already, I'm not the most patient person), but giving up was not an option. Because this needle in a haystack, was a pretty important fucking needle.

I shivered when I finally found my way inside, half from the cold and half because I was afraid. I have stood in the face of armies and monsters without the batter of an eyelid … but that place. That place scared me beyond belief. There was a cold, cruel threat about the long empty halls that sent a chill down my spine. I felt … exposed. As though I was standing in an lift filled with camera's and there was no way out.

My boots clicked on the marble floors and I could hear my breathing echo about me, occasionally hitching when I turned a corner and raised my gun. Just in case.

Inevitably, my teeth began to chatter with the cold air hitting my drenched skin, and I sat down with a squelch. I licked my lips and leaned back against the cool marble, my eyes shutting. It felt as though I was being shoved to the floor, like I was carrying a weight up hill. I forced myself to get up, stumbling slightly as I wearily checked room after room, my eyes scanning the walls to look for cracks or signs of a hidden opening. I climbed and climbed the endless flights of stairs, pausing only to check a room or catch my breath. But I knew it was hopeless.

"I never thought the day would come when a fool enters my home alone, without permission, and fumbles through my belongings with the grace and stealth of a mountain troll." A deep voice mocked, coming from all around me. I spun on my heel and looked around for the owner of the voice, my senses screaming with fear and apprehension.

"These are no longer your possessions. You are a prisoner of your own keep." I shouted, sneering, though my heart was banging in my chest a mile a minute.

"Insolent child. You would do to learn some respect." The voice said, laughing a brittle laugh. I cocked my head to one side,

"I have no respect for a pawn of Sauron's." I said cheekily, my hands shaking very slightly as I backed up against a wall, my keen eyes searching desperately for Saruman. I couldn't hurt what I couldn't see, therefore, I was vulnerable.

And he knew that.

"Come out and face me like a man!" I shouted, my nerves grating. Another laugh came, this one wild and not quite sane.

"But I am no man! I am a Wizard, child! I am Saruman of Many Colours. I have surpassed the power of any other!" I licked my lips nervously, but forced myself to smirk.

"Then why have you been defeated? Tell me where you hide your Book of Power, and I shall spare you the fate I bestowed upon your old servant, Grima Wormtongue." I said, my fingers twitching in front of the trigger. There was a long silence and then I heard a door slam from above me. I jumped,

"Come and retrieve it, then, brave warrior! Prove to me that you are more than a clumsy fool! I should be surprised if you do!" Saruman mocked. I set my jaw and rolled my shoulders before marching up the steps, boots clicking with each step that I knew could be my last. Click, click, click …

I finally reached a door made of thick, black stone, open just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I sighed and flexed the tense muscles in my back, weighing my options. I was probably walking into a trap, that much was certain. But without his help, it was doubtful that I would _ever _manage to complete my task.

So it was: Walk into a trap and most likely die or Don't walk into a trap and never find out where the book that will destroy humanity is.

I set my jaw, coming to a decision that would most likely, result in my death. I prepared myself to bust in, my lips moving silently in a prayer. Something I hadn't done since the start of the war. 'Please, I know you're up there. Help me do this.' I thought, gritting my teeth.

I gave out a strangled yelp when my gun was tugged from my grip by unseen hands, and my feet were knocked from under me. I struggled to get back to my feet, but my ears were filled with high pitched screaming and I began to crumpled to ground with the agony, covering my ears with my hands. It was no use. The unearthly scream continued and I felt myself being dragged up the steps, my body bruising and my bones rattling in protest.

For the first time, I was helpless. I had stupidly gone up there alone, without a properly formed plan … and I was going to get what was coming to me.

Finally, the painful sound stopped, but I could still hear someone's screams. It was a while before I realised that it was me. I was shaking uncontrollably and I felt a trickle of blood dribble down my face from my ear. Before me stood a man dressed all in white, his old face cruel, his mouth uttering words so foul and terrible that the sky had darkened. I tried to speak but my throat was raw and red, and there was spit and blood all over my chin from the effort. I was done for.

I frantically scanned the area around me and realised I was miles from the ground on a platform, in the sky. There was no possible escape. I looked back up into Saruman's wild eyes, my stomach plummeting. I tried to scoot backwards towards the pillars on each side. Maybe I could hide behind it or …

"So this is the mighty warrior. The saviour of Rohan, reduced to a snivelling child." He sneered, waving his staff so that I was immobile. Through the blood and the pain, I managed one word.

"Coward." His face twisted with fury and he raised his staff. I prepared for the final blow, but I didn't shut my eyes. I wouldn't go down hiding.

There was a great flash and thud, then I heard something rolling across the platform and dropping into the water below us. I managed to force myself to lift my head just in time to see the orb that had been in Saruman's staff being picked up by Pippin below us. Gandalf looked up, straight into the eyes of Saruman. Saruman ran to the edge, his hands outstretched for the orb, his back turned to me for the first time.

Using all the strength I had left, I cried out, letting the pain and anguish in my voice slice through the oppressive stillness. There was a commotion below us, with people crying out my name. Saruman turned, seeming to remember I was there.

"You want the Book from me now, yes I foresee it. You wish to stop what will be, to change the path that has been set." He said, his voice calm and thoughtful … sane even.

'Tell me where it is.' I mouthed to him, my eyes defiant and angry. He smiled at me, a chilling, awful smile and he moved towards the edge of the roof. The voices were closer now, I could hear them coming up the steps, running towards us. Just a little longer …

"I shall perish before I watch you alter what I have worked so hard for." Saruman said, his foot half off the side. I reached out, shaking my head violently.

I was too late.

He fell down, tearing through the air at a frightening pace before I heard the ominous splash far below us.

"Faith!" Someone was at my side, holding my hand tightly. "You are safe now, Mellon. You are safe." Haldir said, hooking an arm under my neck and allowing me to sit up a little. I looked up into his deep blue eyes, a single tear running down my cheek.

"All hope is lost. I failed." I whispered. Haldir looked confused for a moment, and he moved away when Gandalf sat by me.

"You did not fail. Had you not entered, I would not have followed, so I would never have seen the markings on the floor. I shall tell you more of such matters later. But be assured, I know of the whereabouts of a certain Book." He said, his wise grey eyes glittering slightly. "Rest." He said, laying a warm hand over my eyes.

I did.


	12. Running Through Nightmares

_Chapter Twelve_

_I ran. I ran faster than ever before. My feet were being torn on the sharp rocks and the biting wind made my lips blue with cold but I didn't stop. I could hear the alarms going off back in the camp and the dogs barking madly - some of the prisoners shouted encouragement from far away, and the sounds of gun shots followed. _

_The encouragement stopped abruptly._

_I wanted to scream, to collapse, to cry. But I couldn't. I had to get away first. I pushed myself harder, stumbling occasionally but continuing the terrible climb up over the rocks. I had to get some distance between the prison camp and I. The Klucks mustn't get me. I knew one more day of torture would break me, and that wasn't an option. _

_Eventually, the barking of the guard dogs faded away and I found myself alone, exhausted and freezing on a ledge on the cliff face, a good mile or so away from the camp. It was only then that I began forming a plan. I inspected my bloody, aching feet and ended up having to sit on them to keep them warm. I stoutly ignored the pain that coursed through my body. My shoulder length, matted hair was in my way and little icicles were forming from where it had been damp with sweat. I hacked off my hair with the knife I had stolen from a guard. I heard a dog howl, close above me on the next ledge and I flattened myself against the wall, biting down on a scream. _

_They had found me._

"Peace, you are safe." A voice said far away. My eyes snapped open and all I could see was a blur of colour. Nightmare. Just a nightmare, a memory of a world I ad long since left. "Come back to us." The voice continued, slurred and echoing through my mind. I squinted and licked my lips, the dizziness ebbing away when I sipped the cup of water at my lips. I sluggishly pushed the goblet away, blinking slowly,

"Where am I?" I mumbled, looking down to find myself warm and clean on a soft bed.

"You are in Rohan once again." An old, tired voice said.

"Who're you?" I asked, moving back and wincing at the effort.

"I am a Healer, Feora. I am one of the best Healers of the land, King Theoden would have nothing less. And you are Captain Faith, a slayer of Orcs as far as I can gather. You are wanted at the feast tonight, if you feel fit." She said, busying herself by piling on another fur and straightening the pillow under my head.

"So you … you know. About who I really am." I said unsurely, my voice still a little hoarse. The old woman flashed a toothless smile,

"I know nothing except that you are a warrior." She said, standing. I smiled back and pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the aches all over my body. "Will you require my help?" She asked, already setting to work before I could answer. I opened my mouth to protest but quickly changed my mind when I heard by joints audibly crack as I stretched them.

"Thanks." I muttered grudgingly. I hated being treated like a child.

She smeared a mint smelling goop over my cuts and helped me get changed into some clean clothes (dead embarrassing as one could imagine). She dressed me in the normal clothes of the Rohan riders which was bloody nuisance, I can tell you. First a deep green tunic, then a pair of brown of leggings and worn leather boots with an engraved belt, blah blah blah ... honestly. Give me a pair of combat boots, regulation trousers and a t-shirt any day.

I thanked Feora before following the sound of people and the clinking of plates down the corridors. At one point I came back to the mirror that I had used a life time ago – or so it seemed anyway. I reluctantly had a look and jumped, startled at what I found.

I looked awful.

The left side of my faces was black and blue with bruises and a large cut ran from my cheek to by lip. The only thing that stopped me looking like a complete monster was the fact that there wasn't any swelling. Thank the Valar for small mercies, eh?

When I finally reached the Golden Hall, I was ready to out-drink and out-eat any man in the place. I grabbed the nearest plate of grub I could find and basically tore at the turkey leg like a starved wolf, only pausing to guzzle the warm wine in the goblet. No one minded. They all did the same thing, but more beards were involved. When my hunger and thirst was finally sated, I realised someone was watching me. I looked behind me to find a bemused elf observing me, sipping his goblet delicately as though to prove a point.

I glared. Bloody Elves.

"You are putting the men to shame, captain Faith. How on earth can you fit such a vast amount of food into such a small body?" He asked, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. The moment stretched on and a few of the men who'd been listening turned to watch.

"I haven't a clue. Perhaps you could tell me your secret. Most elven men as slender as their women, are they not?" I asked cheekily. More people began to watch but there was nothing much to see. Within a moment, Haldir began to laugh and he abruptly pulled me into a very un-elf-like hug. It was nice. I swore under my breath when I forgot about my face and allowed it to bump into Haldir's shoulder. He was, after all, a good deal taller than me.

"I am sorry. I should have realised you would still be in pain." He said quickly, stepping back. I saw reluctant worry shining through his eyes and attempted to smile. The product must have been hideous, what with the crusted blood on the corner of my mouth and the black and blue shiny bruises. Snogging was certainly off the 'To Do' list for a good while yet.

Haldir lead me through the hall (I spotted Merry and Pippin dancing around on the table tops). I was greeted like a long lost friend by the broken remains of the fellowship. Aragorn kissed my forehead (brave of him), Legolas squeezed my hand (a safe bet. No bruises there) and Gimli … well, Gimli nearly knocked me over with his bear hug around my knees.

That night I felt … like a kid, I suppose. I knew there was far more to come, far more to face but somehow that was alright. I was alive and kicking, and I intended to make the best of it. I laughed and danced and even was poked into singing a song once I had drunk a couple of mugs of honey mead. And two goblets of mulled wine. And a shot of amber stuff that looked a lot like whisky. I went to sleep in the wee hours of the morning … well, more like passed out but hey, who wants the details, right?

I was jarred awake a few hours later, surrounded by screams, shouting and a blinding white light, accompanied by a searing pain in my forehead. Not the most pleasant of wake-up calls after indulging in a night of under age alcohol consuming, as you can imagine.

"PIPPIN!" I looked up in time to see the little hobbit writhing in agony on the cold stone floors, his hands clamped tightly around the glass ball that I recognized to be the one from Saruman's keep. I reached out to him but it was too late, the ball rolled from his hands and he lay still and quiet.

"This is my fault." I whispered. As Gandalf knelt beside him, waking him, my world had already begun to shudder and creak. One night of letting my guard down, allowing myself to relax and this was the result. Had I been awake and alert, I might have prevented this. I knew that this was going to happen, of course I did, I knew the myths well enough to remember how Pippin foolishly looked into the orb and glimpsed the enemy's plans. I could have prevented this but I was too involved in myself. The first thing you learn in battle is that a captain never relaxes or let's themselves get carried away.

Because if a captain makes a mistake, people get hurt. People die.

I've seen and done too much to have the luxury of being an irresponsible kid. I've looked into dying soldier's eyes and told them they'd be alright, knowing full well they wouldn't last the hour. I've walked away from burning cities, ordered to ignore the hopeless cries of those who were still trapped in the flames.

I snapped my eyes back towards the scene unfolding in front of me and followed the group as we headed towards the Golden Hall to talk with Theoden.

The night bled into the day as they agonized over all our options. I stayed quiet, for once, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was thinking. When we were in Isengard, Gandalf has said something about Saruman's book. He had said he'd seen the location of the book in the markings on the floor.

Well what the fuck did that mean?

Bloody wizards. They always speak in riddles and I have a strong feeling it's a conscious effort to annoy lesser beings. Delos used to do the same, speak in riddles I mean. He was too smart for his own good. Only my age and he'd almost finished medical school – hence why he was our head medic. I liked Delos from the moment I met him, when he fixed my knee after I was shot. Most people were put off my his cold intelligence and disdainful sneers, but I always found him more amusing than anything else.

"… Faith cannot ride a horse comfortably when he is fit, never mind when he is injured and weak. He cannot make the journey to Gondor without causing himself further harm." Haldir was saying furiously to Gandalf. I pulled myself from my thoughts and jumped to my feet.

"I think should decide if I'm well enough to ride or not, _Captain_.I'm not a child, I know if I am able." I snapped, shooting an icy glare at Aragorn, who looked as though he agreed with the Elf.

"Yes, of course." Gandalf said, infuriatingly calm as always. _I believe it may be in your interests to go as a certain book is hidden deep within the archives of the White City._ Gandalf's voice echoed inside my head, his piercing grey eyes boring into mine. Ah. That was … odd.

"Well then, I am well enough to go. Just a little bruised. I should like to go, if it would please King Theoden." I said, looking to him with my heart thumping in my throat. The man nodded and put a hand on my shoulder.

"You truly are of a noble heart and spirit." He said, squeezing gently. He turned to one of the men standing at the back of the hall. "Gamling! Make sure Captain Faith has the best horse we can offer him. His own horse is too exhausted to make such a journey." He said. Suddenly, I was being hustled towards the huge doors with Gandalf, Pippin, Merry and Haldir.

"You must not go! You are not well!" Haldir was saying, quickening his pace to match mine.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine." I muttered, eyes fixed on Gandalf's white robes, a little way ahead of us.

"Why do you want to go with them? Nothing waits for you in Gondor. Unless …" He trailed off and suddenly, he stiffened and his jaw was set. "Your paramour awaits you there." He finished, his voice hard. I blinked. Para-what? I scanned the word through my mind and thought about the context. Why would he be … oh! Paramour = Boyfriend.

"What? No! How could you think that?" I hissed, struggling to keep my voice down. "In Gondor … listen, I'm on a quest of sorts. I must go to Gondor because there is something kept there that I need. That my people need." I said, my voice hushed so that no one around us could hear. Instantly, Haldir relaxed slightly and I finally was able to look up into his face.

"I understand." He replied quietly. We had reached the entrance to the stables. "Shall I see you before the next new moon?" He asked.

"I hope so." I replied, feeling ridiculously embarrassed. He smiled and kissed my eyelids gently before releasing my hands and turning away. I stood there like a lemon for a minute or so before I heard Gandalf's voice calling me in.

"This is your horse. His name is Eaosye." Gandalf said, hading me the reigns of the largest dark grey horse I had ever laid eyes on. I looked at it dubiously and near stamped my feet with frustration. Why, oh why, was I always the one stuck with the biggest, meanest bloody horse you could possible find? As I hauled myself up into the saddle and was nearly thrown off it when the horse galloped after Gandalf and Pippin sharing a horse, only one thought was flashing through my mind.

The man who had chosen my steed --Gamling-- would pay.


	13. Minas Tirith

_Chapter Thirteen _

Minas Tirith.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes scanned the magnificent city, taking in every detail of the place. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. It was weird. Across from Minas Tirith, I could just make out the river and the city of Osgilith, in shambles after the many battles that had been fought. And beyond that, the mountains where the lair of the Witch King was hidden – Minas Morgul.

"Many men have died here, and many more are set to die here if we fail," Gandalf said quietly, his eyes cast to the river and the ruined city beside it.

"Many men have died everywhere. That's the nature of things. A single person's life is insignificant in the scheme of things. If you serve a bigger purpose, then sacrifices have to be made. Lives are lost." I replied, unthinkingly. I glanced at the wizard and felt a twinge of guilt when his intense eyes grew just a hint colder and something flashed through them so quickly I hadn't the time to identify it.

"No land that I have seen can make the clothes you wear, or the weapons you carry – indeed, I have not heard of such a place either. But I know in my heart of hearts you serve a great purpose here … be it terrible or good. But 'tis truly a pity that you clutch your anger so close to your heart that it has made your soul so hard," he said gravely.

Pippin looked supremely uncomfortable.

Shadowfax galloped into the distance quite suddenly without warning. Eosye followed suit and I was nearly flung off the goddamn horse when his powerful flanks suddenly tensed and he shot forward like a bullet.

I was unsettled by Gandalf's words – 'You serve a greater purpose here, be it terrible or good' – what had he meant by that? Be it terrible? What did he think I was? A fucking traitor!? A _coward_!? Or did he think I would end up a burn out, one of those weaklings who would curl up into a little ball during battle and bawl for their mummy!?

My blood began to boil and I found myself grinding my teeth and gripping the reigns until my knuckles were white – anger was coursing through me, giving me enough strength to sit up on the horse properly as we galloped towards the gates of the city. That's what anger does. It gives you that extra push you need – in a battle, it's that extra push that can save your life, so I suppose I've learnt to allow my anger to rear it's ugly head whenever it pleased so that was why I was often so easy to set off. Oh, and teenage hormones? They don't help.

Going through the gates of Gondor was … a blow. I had always imagined it to be sparkling white – it _is _the White City after all – but as usual, the reality of the city hits hard. The walls are white, yes, but that makes it easier to see the grime on the streets and the filth visible on the houses. It wasn't a painting – it was a functional city with dirt and pain just like every other city fighting a war. There were beggars and vagrants, widows and orphans, pain and loss. Evidence that Gondor had been at war for far too long. There was a familiar weariness about the place – like hope had been dashed and battered too many times.

Gondor wasn't anything like we had all imagined.

"Gandalf …" I began.

"Stay here," he interrupted, raising his staff. I didn't argue. Shadowfax galloped up the steep incline with he and Pippin, and I was left alone. I bit the inside of my cheek, the anger returning full force. So, the old coot didn't want me to join them in meeting Denethol, Steward of Gondor? Fine, I won't follow them. But I'll be damned if I'm going to stay right here.

"Hey!" I shouted at an old man, shuffling along the street and begging for coins. I fished in the pocket of my tunic and found a grimy bit of silver. "Where be the nearest ale-house?" I asked. He blinked at me sluggishly, scratching his balding head.

"That'd be The White Torrence, young sir. Down that 'a way," he said, pointing left, his beady eyes transfixed as I held the silver in my hand.

"Thank you." I flicked the coin at him and kicked into Eosye's sides without looking back. Soon enough I found myself outside a scabby little hole in the wall, with the words 'White Torrence' scrawled across the once-grand doorway. The sounds of laughter and boyish singing emitted from the narrow entrance. It looked encouragingly seedy.

I dismounted from Eosye (which in itself was quite a feat) and tied him to the post with the other horses. My legs buckled under me and I glared at the horse contemptuously.

"Bloody horse," I mumbled, gingerly stretching my muscles before striding (more like hobbling) into the pub.

"I think I'm very drunk," I mumbled, blinking at my fourth mug of frothing ale. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"I think you're extremely drunk, my friend," laughed my new drinking buddy… Uilliam, was it?

"So we both think I'm drunk. Interesting," I said, gulping down the ale.

"And yet, we are still no closer to discovering from where you hail," my other drinking buddy intoned, raising an eyebrow expectantly. What was his name? Athol?

I snorted as another mug came sliding towards us, and waggled my finger accusingly at him, "you, m'dear, are too curious for your own good," I said, picking up his mug and claiming it as my own. I took a swig.

Mm. Honey mead.

Uilliam and Athol laughed good-naturedly and Uilliam shook his head, "And you, _m'dear_, are too secretive. These are dangerous times - friends are few. You should not draw so much suspicion … a young man, alone, donned in the attire of a Rohan warrior, but your accent is clearly from afar. Your discomfort shows you are not used to riding a horse. But," He paused, taking a drink, and looking at me more closely, "you have honest eyes."

"Your eyes aren't too bad yourself," I said, a grin threatening to spread.

He looked at me strangely, and I realized too slowly (the alcohol!) that what I had said could be misconstrued. I had to be more careful. Trying to clear my head, I coughed, saying, "in a – warrior, manly, kind of way."

Mistake.

"Aye! We warriors should stand together!" Athol shouted, lifting his mug into the air.

"AYE!" the pub roared after him, clicking mugs, slapping backs and … worrying me slightly, to be honest.

My back was pummelled by various large hands. It felt distinctly uncomfortable. And it also caused me to choke far more than would be considered healthy.

"Poor lad can't handle his ale!" Someone laughed, causing guffaws and snorts around the small room.

I pulled myself to my feet, swaying dangerously, "Who said that?" I slurred, with a good many hiccoughs, throwing my clenched fist up. A man from the other end of the pub – larger than I had anticipated – stood.

"That would be me," he bellowed, to jeers and catcalls from around us. Now let me explain. I am not one to back out of a fight. Ever. Which, as you can imagine, had landed me in one too many sticky situations. However, when faced with a man, whose fist was roughly the size of my head, and whose beard was thoroughly drenched with more ale than I had _ever_ drunk, I began to have second thoughts. And thirds, and fourths…

"Right then," I nodded, "good on yer." And sat back down.

Which, to be honest, is one of the best decisions I have ever made. I did not survive Word War Three, fall off a cliff, survive Helm's Deep, get shot by a poisoned arrow, come back from the dead AND escape Saruman alive, to be killed by a overly zealous Gondorian thug.

"That was a wise decision, my friend," Athol said sincerely. Uilliam looked amused. I nodded and poked his chest,

"I'm a wise sort of … person." I said decidedly, laughing suddenly for no real reason at all. "Sir! Another round for my friends and I!" I called to the barman, smacking my lips when I finished another mug. Money was not an obstacle, due to the unfortunate luck of a fellow patron who had earlier bet me loads of silver pieces that I couldn't drink two shots of 'Warrior's Glory' without throwing up. Hah. Two shots later, I was light-headed and rather rich to boot.

Three hours later I stumbled out of The White Torrence, arms slung over Uilliam and Athol's shoulders as they steered me to the edge of the cobbled pavement. Athol called farewell and said that he hoped he would see me again before I moved on. "… I may have won us more drinks if you hadn't have dragged me out while I was on a roll!" I slurred at Uilliam when Athol had left, narrowing my eyes at him accusingly.

"You have proven enough for one night. You may be a Ranger, but that does not mean you are invulnerable." He said, steadying me with a strong hand when I wobbled sat down, resting my head on my knees. When did the world decide to spin so fast? And what was that about Rangers? Hm. Ranger Faith. Sounded like a cheesy tellie show. Cheese. Urg.

I shoved Uillium out of the way and scrambled into a narrow ally beside the pub, emptying the contents of my stomach. When the fountain of puke (and what a lovely mental image that description invokes) had finally run out, I slumped back onto my heels and wiped my mouth. Uillium was laughing _far _too loudly and if my limbs would just _cooperate _I may have smacked him one. But, I settled for glaring meekly as he handed me a flask of water, make of some sort of animal skin. Didn't matter to me. I pulled the cork out and drank deeply, splashing my mouth to take away the foul taste.

"Here, an infusion of Greydew leaf and Fleora. Eat, it shall waken you." he said, fishing in his pocket and producing a few dubious leaves. I took them and sniffed them warily, recognising the smell of mint. Ah hell, good enough.

I shoved them into my mouth before my brain could protest. Woah. My senses were suddenly filled with mint and something else – sharp and bitter. Within two minutes I felt the worst of the dizziness ebb away and I stood.

"You are very kind. Thank you," I said sincerely. Enough time had been wasted now, I had to get going. Uilliam grinned, and suddenly I realised he must not have been more than, what, nineteen? Huh.

"You paid for my ale. It was the least I could do. Farewell, may your path lead you to happiness," He said, placing a heavy hand on my right shoulder. I smiled and placed one hand on his left, squeezing.

"Farewell, may the stars smile on you," I said. Uilliam smiled again and walked away, disappearing amongst the houses. I sighed and looked at Eosye, who was munching on a hay bale set in front of the pole, occasionally stopping to drink the water from the trough.

"I think we'll walk," I said decidedly, untying him. I walked up the road, towards the spot where Gandalf had told me to wait. Well. Tried. Eosye was refusing to budge. Stupid horse. I wasn't in the bloody _mood _to deal with this. "Come on you irritating bloody animal, we have to go and …"

'The Book is beneath the place where the heathen kings once watched the flames of mortality lick their fellow man away. The flames have the power to save the future, use them well.'

I blinked.

Where did that come from?

I ran the words through my head again, wholly confused. Where did that voice come from? And more importantly, what did it mean? "Why does everyone feel the need to talk in **riddles**!?" I shouted into the air, growling. It was like playing an incredibly important game of Clue.

I tugged hard at Eosye's reigns, muttering obscenities under my breath. He still wouldn't budge. "Hey, ever heard of a glue factory?" I asked him, looking up into his huge brown eyes. He looked unimpressed. "Look," I said, pulling his head down to my level, "I don't like you and you don't like me. But I have to save the world and all that, and you're supposed to be my loyal steed, as my other loyal steed was too knackered to come here to Gondor. So. If you cooperate now, I promise I'll let you rest the whole night, undisturbed. Hell, I'm probably going to die in the next few days anyway. Okay?" I pleaded, hoping vainly that the horse would get it.

Eosye still wouldn't budge.

Oh yes, Gamling would most certainly pay ... and there would be tongs involved - possibly hot irons too.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
